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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 

MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


\ 


W1 


ASMODEUS; 


OR, 

TIE  MQU1TM  OF  NOT  I0M: 

BEING    A    COMPLETE    EXPOSE    OF 

Silje  Crimes,  SJoittgs  cm&  t)itt0 

AS    EXHIBITED    IN    THE 

HAUNTS  OF  GAMBLERS  AND  HOUSES  OF  PROSTITUTION, 

BOTH  IN 

HIGH  AND  LOW  LIFE! 

INCLUDING   A    SKETCH    OP    THE 
AND    THE    CELEBRATED 

REPORT  OF  ARTHUR  TAPPAN,  ESQ. 

ON  THE 

MAGDALKV8  Of  X£W  YORK. 


NEW-YORK: 

PUBLISHED   FOR   THE    PROPRIETORS, 

BY  C.   Q.   GRAHAM   &   CO. 

38    ANN-STREET,    PATERNOSTER    ROW. 
•     1849. 


jfl 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1848, 
BY  C.  G.  GRAHAM  &  CO., 

la  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


tf-N%0 

M  o&7 


PUBLISHER'S  NOTICE. 


A  work  entitled  "  Asmodeus,  or  Legends  of  New  York,"  having 
made  its  appearance  a  few  weeks  since,  which  caused  no  small  ex- 
citement in  our  quiet  city,  and  the  author  of  that  work  having  promised 
a  sequel — which  to  this  time  has  not  appeared — therefore  the  present 
publishers  having  been  offered  the  MS.  of  this  work,  thought  from  the 
character  of  the  same,  it  would  in  one  sense  carry  out  the  original 
design  of  the  author  of  "  Asmodeus."  It  will  not  be  necessary  for 
the  publishers  to  make  a  comparison  between  the  two,  as  it  regards 
literary  points  of  view — all  we  have  to  say  is  that  the  "  Iniquities  of 
New  York"  is  written  by  an  author  of  acknowledged  talent.  In 
regard  to  the  merits  of  the  work  as  a  true  vehicle  of  the  "  Iniquities" 
of  our  great  city,  the  reader  has  only  to  read  this  work  and  he  will 
see  that  the  author  of  "  Asmodeus,"  or  "  Mysteries  and  Miseries  of 
New  York"  knew  but  little  of  what  he  professed  to  write  a  great  deal 
about. 


PEEFACE. 


This  work  is  no  creation  of  the  fancy — though  in  the  form  of  fiction, 
its  scenes,  variations  and  plots  are  all  drawn  from  real  life,  and  are 
depicted  in  colors  of  truth. 

If  the  reader  should  deem  any  of  the  disclosures  improper  or  in- 
delicate, let  him  remember  that  it  is  impossible  to  reveal  the  condition 
of  the  unfortunate  women  of  a  great  city  like  New  York,  without  the 
use  of  language  and  the  exhibition  of  scenes  that,  employed  for 
any  other  purpose,  might  be  liable  to  censure.  Besides  it  is  to  be  ob- 
served that  the  boldest  language  in  the  book  is  drawn  from  the  cele- 
brated report  of  the  Magdalen  Society,  and  that  it  is  here  given  to  aid 
in  the  great  purpose  of  this  work — that  is,  the  alleviation  of  the  mis- 
eries, the  wants  and  the  woes  of  the  unfortunate.  Who  will  not  at 
once,  after  reading  this  work,  come  out  and  assist  us  in  putting  down 
the  thousand  ways  whereby  houses  of  ill-fame  are  kept  supplied 
with  "fresh  hands?"  We  say,  who  will  not?  It  will  doubtless  be 
those  who  own  and  rent  the  "  dens  of  infamy,"  those  who  in  their 
every  day  life  are  considered  good,  moral,  upright  men,  their  pockets 
always  open — i.  e.  when  any  influential  reporter  is  present  that  it  may 
be  heralded  forth  to  the  world. 


INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE    MAGDALENS    OF    NEW    YORK. 

To  portray  the  condition  of  society  in  New  York,  requires  a  free 
and  fearless  pen.  The  woes  and  wailings,  the  iniquities  and  infamy 
of  women,  form  the  theme  of  this  chapter,  and  to  hold  them  up  before 
the  eyes  of  the  public,  demands  an  exposition  that,  though  it  may 
shock  the  sensitive,  will  nevertheless  command  the  attention  and  ap- 
proval of  the  wise  and  good. 

The  wrongs  and  degradation  of  woman  betrayed  and  lost — this  is 
the  argument  of  our  song!  Woman,  with  all  thy  beauty  and  tender. 
ness  and  love — when  fallen  from  the  heaven  in  which  thou  wast 
ordained  to  move — how  like  the  spirits  of  evil  dost  thou  become ! 
Lucifer,  hurled  from  his  seat  at  the  right  hand  of  Jehovah  to  the 
bottomless  deep  of  the  damned,  and  with  maddened  hate  wreaking  out 
his  wrath  against  all  that  is  good,  is  a  type  of  woman  fallen  from  the 
heavenly  throne  of  virtue  to  the  deep  abyss  of  that  shameless  and  most 
dreadful  of  all  the  traffics  of  sin. 

The  fifteen  or  twenty  thousand  of  unfortunates  of  the  City  of  New 
York — women  lost  to  virtue  and  forsaken  by  friends — who  can  depict 
their  lamentable  condition  in  colors  of  truth,  without  opening  a  sealed 
book  of  mystery,  misery  and  wo  ? 

We  must  not  approach  this  subject  with  any  feeling  of  mawkish 
delicacy — truth,  the  most  alarming  and  sorrowful  must  be  told  with- 
out fear  of  uttering  what  a  squeamish  fastidiousness  might  deem 
indelicate,  or  of  making  exposures  that  may  shock  the  nerves  of  the 
sensitive. 


8  ASMODEUS ;  OR, 

i 
We   shall   not   enter  alone  on   this   dangerous  volcano,   belching 

forth  its  eruptions  over  the  bright  fields  of  innocence  and  youth  and 

beauty,  and  making  desolate  the  homes  and  hearts  of  unnumbered 

sufferers. 

To  this  great  task  we  shall  summon  the  aid  and  counsel  of  the  wise 

and  good,  and  accordingly  open  with  the  celebrated,  the  rare,  and  now 

suppressed 

REPORT  OF  ARTHUR  TAPPAN, 

ON  THE  MAGDALENS  OF  NEW  YORK. 

This  report  was  made  eighteen  years  ago,  and  depicts  a  most 
depraved  and  horrible  state  of  society. 

It  estimates  the  number  of  women  in  this  city,  that  make  prostitution 
their  trade,  at  Ten  Thousand.  By  the  natural  laws  of  the  increase  of 
vice,  which  more  than  keeps  pace  with  the  augmentation  of  the  popu- 
lation, this  amount,  which  was  then  deemed  too  small,  must  now  be 
swelled  to  the  frightful  number  of  Twenty  Thousand  Women  in  the 
City  of  New  York  who  drive  that  most  dreadful  of  all  trades — the 
traffic  of  their  virtue  for  gold  ! 

The  following  statement  is  authentic.  It  was  made  by  men  dis- 
tinguished for  their  piety,  and  learning,  and  who  made  a  thorough 
investigation  the  basis  of  their  report.     It  is  the 

"  First  Annual  Report  of  the  Executive  Committee  of  the  New 
York  Magdalen  Sooiety.     Instituted  January  1st,  1830." 

Of  this  Sooiety,  the  distinguished  philanthropist,  Arthur  Tappan, 
was  President.  Its  members  were  composed  of  the  pious  and  good, 
both  men  and  women.  Its  object  was  to  save  the  rising  generation 
from  ruin,  and  to  rescue  the  victims  of  man's  pleasure  from  their 
degradation. 

For  this  purpose  they  had  established  a  "  Probationary  House," 
which  was  an 

"  Asylum  for  Females  who  have  deviated  from  the  path  of  virtue, 
and  who  are  desirous  of  being  restored  to  good  habits." 

But  let  us  turn  to  the  report,  which  exhibits  the  condition  and  mis- 
eries of  this  class  of  unfortunates  with  a  freedom  and  boldness  that  we 
should  not  venture  to  employ. 

After  giving  a  brief  outline  of  the  history  of  their  institution,  the 
report  proceeds  to  speak  thus  boldly  of  the  main  subject : 

"  The  extent  of  prostitution  in  this  city,  as  shown  by  facts  already 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  & 

developed  during  our  labors,  and  the  alarming  increase  of  the  unhappy 
victims  of  seduction  among  us,  of  which  we  have  attained  the  most 
demonstrative  evidence,  so  far  exceed  all  our  own  previous  calcula- 
tions, that  we  are  prepared  to  anticipate  skepticism  and  incredulity  in 
others.  Indeed,  enough  is  in  our  possession  to  cause  a  thrill  of  horror 
to  be  felt  by  every  virtuous  man  and  woman  in  the  community,  such 
as  was  never  produced  by  any  expose  of  vice  which  has  ever  met  the 
public  eye.  Did  not  prudence  and  delicacy  forbid  the  disgusting  de- 
tail of  what  has  been  brought  to  our  knowledge  thus  early  in  the  his- 
tory of  this  Society,  every  parent  would  tremble  for  the  safety  of  his 
sons  as  well  as  his  daughters,  and  we  could  a  tale  disclose  which 
would  cause  the  blood  to  '  chill  within  the  veins,  and  each  particular 
hair  to  stand  erect,  like  quills  upon  the  fretted  porcupine.'  But  we 
shall  forbear,  and  only  set  forth  those  general  facts  which  plead  for 
the  necessity  of  extensive  and  efficient  efforts,  in  behalf  of  those  un- 
happy females,  for  whose  reformation  and  salvation  the  New  York 
Magdalen  Society  is  engaged. 

"  First,  then,  we  would  present  the  fact,  that  we  have  satisfactorily 
ascertained  that  the  number  of  females  in  this  city,  who  abandon 
themselves  to  prostitution,  is  not  less  than  TEN  THOUSAND!! 
The  data  on  which  this  estimate  is  founded  are,  first,  the  opinion  of 
the  Alderman,  whose  experience  and  observation  for  several  years 
past,  as  Commissioner  at  Bellevue,  enabled  him  to  judge  very  accu- 
rately, and  from  whom  we  learned  in  the  commencement  of  our  labors, 
what  we  then  thought  improbable,  that  there  were  *  ten  thousand  har- 
lots in  this  city.1  But  although  we  then  judged  that  the  number  was 
overrated,  we  are  driven  to  the  painful  admission,  that  his  estimate 
was  just,  from  our  own  observation  in  the  partial  census  we  have  at- 
tempted. 

"  We  have  the  names,  street,  and  number  of  the  houses  of  ill-fame 
in  this  city,  notoriously  inhabited  by  abandoned  women ;  and  also  the 
houses  of  assignation,  where  daily  and  nightly  the  pollution  of  girls 
and  women  of  all  ages  and  colors,  married  and  single,  is  habitually 
committed.  Many  of  these  sinks  of  iniquity  are  in  respectable  neigh- 
borhoods, disguised  under  the  mask  of  boarding  houses,  dressmakers, 
milliners,  stores  and  shops  of  various  kinds.  Some  of  them  are  large 
and  elegant  houses,  provided  with  costly  furniture,  and  have  brass 
and  silver  plates  on  the  doors,  on  which  are  engraved  the  real  or 
fictitious  names  of  the  occupants. 

"  These  haunts  of  iniquity  have  been  discovered  partly  by  the  aid 
of  the  police  officers,  partly  by  the  girls  and  women  who  have  been 


10  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

rescued  from  pollution  by  the  Asylum,  and  partly  by  the  vigilance  of 
persons,  male  and  female,  employed  by  the  Society.  By  these  means 
we  have  arrived  at  very  many  of  the  secrets  of  these  nests  of  abomin- 
ation, the  number  of  lewd  women  who  reside  or  resort  to  each,  the  arts 
and  intrigues  by  which  the  victims  of  seduction  are  procured,  as  well 
as  the  names  of  scores  of  the  men  and  boys  who  are  the  seducers  of 
the  innocent,  or  the  companions  of  the  polluted.  Hence  our  oppor- 
tunity of  judging  of~the  extent  of  prostitution  in  the  city,  is  now  by  no 
means  limited,  and  we  are  satisfied  we  do  not  exaggerate  when  we  re- 
peat, that  there  are  now  ten  thousand  girls  and  women,  in  the  City  of 
New- York,  who  live  by  public  and  promiscuous  prostitution.  Besides 
these,  we  have  the  clearest  evidence  that  there  are  hundreds  of  private 
harlots  and  kept  misses,  many  of  whom  keep  up  a  show  of  industry 
as  domestics,  nurses,  &c,  in  the  most  respectable  families,  and  throng 
the  houses  of  assignation  every  night.  Although  we  have  no  means 
of  ascertaining  the  number  of  these,  yet  enough  has  been  learned  from 
the  facts  already  developed  to  convince  us  that  the  aggregate  of  these 
is  alarmingly  great,  perhaps  little  behind  the  proportion  of  the  City  of 
London,  whose  police  reports  assert,  on  the  authority  of  accurate  re- 
searches, that  the  number  of  private  prostitutes  in  that  city  is  fully 
equal  to  the  number  of  public  harlots.  This  is  a  most  appalling 
picture  of  moral  degradation,  and  we  forbear  to  dwell  upon  so  painful 
and  mortifying  conclusions  as  those  to  which  this  view  of  the  subject 
would  impel  us.  We  cannot  forget,  however,  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Staf- 
ford, formerly  employed  as  a  missionary  among  the  depraved  popula- 
tion of  our  city,  published  his  conviction,  after  careful  investigation  of 
tbis  subject,  that  there  were  fifteen  thousand  abandoned  females  in 
this  city,  and  our  population,  permanent  and  transient,  was  then  one- 
third  less  than  it  is  now. 

"  As,  however,  we  would  not  add  one  shade  to  the  dark  picture  of 
our  city's  pollution,  we  shall  assume  it  as  a  fact,  that  there  are  ten 
thousand  only  of  these  lewd  women  in  New  York,  and  we  do  so  be- 
cause we  had  rather  underrate  the  aggregate  than  augment  it. 
Among  these  there  are  girls  of  fourteen,  thirteen,  and  even  twelve 
years  of  age  in  incredible  numbers,  such  as  the  House  of  Refuge  has 
rescued,  although  that  spacious  institution  would  not  hold  all  such, 
could  they  be  sent  there.  Some  of  these,  it  is  revolting  to  human  na- 
ture to  relate,  are  devoted  to  prostitution  thus  early  in  life  by  their 
own  mothers,  either  in  their  own  houses  kept  as  brothels,  or  placed,  by 
these  unnatural  monsters  in  female  form,  in  the  houses  kept  by  others. 

"  Besides  these,  many  of  them  are  the  daughters  of  the  wealthy, 


THE-  INiaUITlES  OF  NEW  YORK.  [1 

respectable  and  pious  citizens  of  our  own  and  other  States,  seduced 
from  their  homes  by  the  villains  who  infest  the  community,  preying 
upon  female  innocence,  and  succeeding  in  their  diabolical  pnrpose, 
either  by  promises  of  marriage  ;  or,  after  deceiving  them  into  a  brothel, 
by  the  commission  of  rape  ;  often  first  depriving  the  victims  of  their 
lust,  of  their  reason,  by  stupefying  drugs  kept  in  these  dens  of  iniquity 
for  the  purpose.  Individual  cases  of  each  of  these  descriptions  are 
known  to  the  Society,  in  which  the  unhappy  girl  has  been  kept 
imprisoned  for  weeks,  until  all  hope  of  escape  from  infamy  was  lost, 
and  she  at  last  gave  herself  up  to  intemperance  and  crime. 

"  Among  these  are  very  many  daughters  of  poor  parents,  and 
especially  widowed  mothers,  whose  necessities  compelled  them  to  seek 
employment  as  domestics.  For  such,  especially  the  young  and  inex- 
perienced, the  keepers  of  these  brothels  are  eagerly  seeking  in  the 
character  of  procuresses,  and  soon  after  hiring  them  as  servants,  they 
are  sent  into  a  room  with  some  man,  or  rather  monster  in  human  shape, 
and  compelled  to  submit  to  his  vile  purpose,  for  which  the  precuress 
is  liberally  paid.  The  poor  girl  now  finds  herself  ruined,  and  is 
presently  seduced  to  consent  to  a  life  of  infamy,  by  the  promise  of 
plenty  of  money,  fine  clothes,  &c,  and  all  is  lost.  Numbers  of  these 
cases  have  already  come  under  our  observation,  in  which  women  were 
thus  the  active  agents  in  effecting  the  ruin  of  the  young  and  unwary 
of  their  own  sex  ;  and  then  the  children  die  from  neglect  or  cruelly, 
or  are  perhaps  sent  to  the  Alms  House,  while  the  mothers  give  them- 
selves up  to  guilt  and  infamy. 

"  But  we  will  not  affect  to  conceal  that  hundreds,  perhaps  thousands 
of  them,  are  the  daughters  of  the  ignorant,  depraved  and  vicious  part 
of  our  population,  trained  up  without  culture  of  any  kind,  amid  the 
contagion  of  evil  example,  and  enter  upon  a  life  of  prostitution  for  the 
gratification  of  their  unbridled  passions,  and  become  harlots  altogether 
by  choice.  These  have  a  short  career,  generally  dying  of  the  effects 
of  intemperance  and  pollution  soon  after  entering  upon  this  road  to 
ruin. 

"  Without  attempting  to  protract  these  loathsome  details,  or  offering 
comment  which  we  deem  unnecessary,  we  would  here  present  the 
result  of  our  observation,  in  reference  to  the  effects  of  this  course  of 
lifo  upon  the  wretched  females  themselves.  Soon  after  they  begin 
their  vicious  indulgence  ;  in  a  drunken  frolic,  at  the  dance  house,  or 
in  the  street,  they  become  involved  in  riotous  conduct,  are  arrested 
and  sent  to  the  watch  house,  whence  they  are  committed  to  the  Peni- 
tentiary for  sixty  days.     This  penance  is  most  generally  unproductive, 


12  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

for  on  their  discharge  they  are  eagerly  sought  for  by  the  former  com- 
panions of  their  guilt,  and  return  to  their  crimes.  Soon  they  are 
overtaken  by  that  disease,  the  judicial  visitation  of  heaven  for  the  sin 
of  uncleanness,  and  are  presently  found  in  the  Alms  House  Hospital, 
where  for  weeks  together  the  deaths  among  them  are  said  to  average 
one  every  day.  Indeed,  it  is  evident  in  this  city,  as  elsewhere  long 
since  shown,,  that  among  those  who  commence  a  life  of  prostitution 
early,  from  three  to  five  years  is  the  average  period  of  their  existence, 
for  intemperance  and  pollution  rapidly  hurry  them  into  the  grave,  a. 
signal  proof  of  the  declaration,  that  '  the  wicked  shall  not  outlive  half 
their  days.' 

"Now  in  the  view  of  these  melancholy  truths,  as  painful  to  relate 
as  they  are  to  hear,  and  presenting  a  portrait  of  moral  death,  amid  the 
blaze  of  Gospel  light  with  which  our  city  is  favored  ;  is  there  not 
enough  to  awaken  compassion  and  zeal  in  the  heart  of  every  individual 
who  fears  God  and  loves  his  neighbor  1  compassion  to  snatch  the 
wretched  victims  of  vice  from  the  sorrows  they  are  preparing  for 
themselves  ?  and  zeal,  to  step  as  it  were,  between  the  living  and  the 
dead,  to  stay  the  plague  which  assails  the  very  vitals  of  society? 

M  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  declare,  so  well  known  is  the  fact,  that 
in  this  vast  city,  multitudes  of  young  creatures  are  continually  deluded, 
inveigled,  enticed  or  surprised  into  the  path  of  ruin  by  means  of  the 
vilest  artifices,  of  whom  it  may  be  truly  said,  in  the  language  of  Dr. 
Johnson,  that  their  wretched  condition  is  '  as  much  their  misfortune  as 
their  fault.'  It  is  a  lamentable  fact  that  men' are  the  original  cause 
of  the  evil  complained  of;  yet  it  is  but  too  true  that  women  take  their 
revenge  a  hundred  fold.  Seductions  of  females  among  us  are  often 
attended  with  peculiar  aggravations,  and  the  abandoned  of  both  sexes 
reciprocally  the  tempters  of  the  virtuous.  But  it  is  clearly  ascertained 
that  bad  women  multiply  the  seduction  of  heedless  youth  more  rapidly 
than  bad  men  seduce  modest  women.  A  few  of  these  courtesans 
suffice  to  corrupt  whole  cities,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  some 
insinuating  prostitutes  have  initiated  more  young  men  into  these 
destructive  ways,  than  the  most  abandoned  rakes  have  debauched 
virgins  during  their  whole  lives. 

"  We  have  ascertained  that  the  mischiefs  of  this  enormous  evil  are 
greatly  aggravated  by  the  persons  who  keep  the  brothels  and  houses 
of  assignation  in  this  city,  many  of  whom  live  by  the  prostitution  of 
others  under  their  roof,  accumulate  large  property  as  the  wages  of 
their  iniquity,  and  yet  boast  of  their  own  personal  integrity  and  place 
their  children  out  of  the  reach,  as  they  think,  of  this  pestiferous  ex- 


10     " 

<< 

7,500 

7     " 

N 

14,000 

3     " 

if 

6,000 

the  miaurrias  op  tfEW  York.  is 

Ample.  The  price  of  boarding,  paid  by  the  abandoned  women  in  this 
city  to  those  who  accommodate  them,  varies  from  three  to  fifteen 
dollars  a  Week,  according  to  the  style  of  their  accommodations,  but  is 
generally  five  or  six  dollars  per  week  for  white  women* 

"  The  following  is  an  attempt  at  estimating  the  probable  expense, 
or  aggregate  amount  of  the  annual  cost  of  the  10,000  harlots  in  this 
city : 
For  boarding  1st  class,  suppose  250,  at  $15  per  week,  $  3,750 
»  2d      "  "         750,  at 

"        "         3d      "  "     2,000,  at 

"         •;  4th    "  "      2,000,  at 

Expense  of  boarding  paid  by  the  whole  per  week,         $31,250 

"  Which  multiplied  by  the  niimber  of  weeks  in  the  year  make  the 
annual  amount  of  nearly  three  millions  qf  dollars ! 7  being  paid  fol 
the  boarding  alone  of  the  unhappy  daughters  of  infamy  in  a  single 
year. 

"Now  if  we  add  to  this  the  probable  expense  of  clothes,  theatre 
tickets,  coach  hire,  wines,  and  spirituous  liquors,  and  other  expenses 
incidental  to  their  mode  of  life,  which  as  we  learn  from  the  best 
evidence  far  exceeds  the  amount  paid  weekly  for  board,  We  think  it  a 
moderate  estimate,  when  we  express  our  conviction  that  six  millions  of 
dollars  is  annually  expended  in  this  city  by  prostitutes,  all  of  which 
besides  what  many  of  them  accumulate  in  the  banks  and  other  pro- 
perty, is  paid  to  them  by  the  guilty  companions  of  their  iniquity* 

"  What  an  awful  waste  of  property,  apart  from  any  higher  con- 
sideration, and  what  proportion  of  this  immense  annual  amount  is 
honestly  acquired  by  those  who  thus  expend  it,  who  can  say  ?  or 
rather  what  proportion  is  robbed  from  parents,  masters,  and  guardians 
by  the  young  men,  clerks,  apprentices*  &c.  Who  infest  these  sinks  of 
abomination,  who  can  estimate  1  More  than  half  is  doubtless  paid 
them  by  silly  and  inexperienced  youth  who  have  no  means  of  support- 
ing their  extravagance,  but  by  embezzling  or  stealing  the  property  of 
others,  and  who  are  made  the  easy  dupes  of  the  arts  of  these  infatuating 
furies,  whose  syren  song  lulls  conscience  to  sleep,  and  thus  prepares 
for  any  and  every  crime. 

"  We  have  ascertained  from  various  sources  that  each  female  of  this 
class  is  visited  on  the  average  by  three  men  or  boys  daily,  and  that 
each  of  these  spend  at  least  fifty  cents  for  liquors,  porter,  &c.  besides 
the  sum  paid  to  the  companions  of  their  guilt,  and  the  infamous  myr- 
midons ti'ho  prooure  and  keep  them.     This  will  show  that  of  the  ten 


14  ASMODE&S-,  OR, 

million  times  these  Women  are  visited  by  men  for  the  purposes  ef  pros- 
titution in  the  course  of  a  year,  Jive  millions  of  dollars  are  expended  in 
addition  to  the  items  included  in  the  above  estimate. 

"  From  the  reformed  women  in  the  several  Asylums,  it  is  ascertained 
that  it  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  them  to  receive  from  ten  to  twenty 
dollars  of  a  night,  and  frequently  from  Saturday  night  to  Monday 
morning  they  will  receive  fifteen  to  twenty-five  men,  and  obtain  as 
their  reward  from  thirty  to  fifty  dollars.  These  items  will  go  far  to 
sustain  the  justness  of  our  former  calculations,  and  are  intended  to 
afford  some  idea  of  the  stupendous  expenses  of  this  one  single  vice, 
the  cause  of  so  much  pauperism  and  crime ;  filling  our  alms-houses, 
hospitals,  prisons  and  penitentiaries,  and  destroying  our  race. 

"  But  what  is  all  this  waste  of  wealth  compared  with  the  ruin  of  the 
generation  of  young  men,  and  the  destruction  of  female  purity  ?  It  is 
insignificant  when  compared  to  the  overthrow  of  the  peace  of  families, 
the  premature  dissolution  of  broken  hearted  parents,  the  wretchedness 
and  disgrace  of  community.  But  all  this  is  as  the  dust  in  the  balance, 
when  weighed  beside  the  loss  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  immortal 
souls.  All  else  is  worse  than  worthless  when  viewed  in  the  light  of 
the  eternal  world,  for  '  her  house  is  the  way  to  death,  and  her  path  lays 
hold  on  hell.' 

"  In  a  former  part  of  this  report  we  have  hinted  at  the  cruelty  with 
which  very  many  of  these  guilty  and  unfortunate  girls  are  treated  by 
those  in  whose  houses  they  are  kept  in  a  state  worse  than  Algerine 
slavery.  In  many  of  the  houses  some  broken  down  rake  is  kept  by 
the  women  who  board  the  girls,  in  the  double  capacity  of  pimp  and 
bully,  or  house  dog.  When  any  benevolent  person  visits  the  house 
for  the  purpose  of  persuading  the  females  to  leave  their  sinful  courses, 
this  vagabond  interferes  and  either  compels  the  visitor  to  leave  the 
house,  or  forcibly  conveys  the  girls  into  another  apartment.  If  a  girl 
shows  a  desire  to  reform,  drugs  are  given  her  in  her  drink  to  stupefy 
her  senses,  and  she  is  often  cruelly  beaten  by  this  monster  in  the  form 
of  a  man. 

"  Another  means  practiced  by  these  wretches  who  keep  many  of 
these  houses  of  ill-fame,  to  retain  the  girls  whose  ruin  their  arts  have 
accomplished,  is  to  own  the  clothes  they  wear,  and  when'  one  wishes 
to  go,  she  has  no  clothes ;  and  even  when  they  have  clothes  of  their 
own,  their  mistresses  will  often  forcibly  detain  them  under  the  pretext 
of  debt,  numerous  instances  of  which  have  come  to  our  knowledge. 
When,  as  is  often  the  case,  the  clothes  worn  by  the  girls  belong  to  the 
keeper  of  the  house,  the  wages  of  their  iniquity  is  also  withheld  from 


THE  INIQUITIES  OP  NEW  YORK.  15 

them,  they  receiving  only  their  board,  and  the  liquor  which  is  freely 
given  to  make  them  contented  with  their  cruel  bondage. 

"  Many  of  these  houses  are  provided  throughout  with  hired  furni- 
ture, and  often  of  an  elegant  kind.  We  have  the  names  and  residence 
of  men  in  this  city  who  follow  this  low  business,  hiring  out  furniture 
by  the  week  at  extravagant  prices  to  such  houses. 

"Another  fact  as  sustained  by  abundant  proof  in  our  possession, 
and  one  in  which  every  class  of  the  community  is  interested  is,  that 
there  are  hundreds  if  not  thousands  of  female  domestics  in  this  city, 
who  serve  in  respectable  families,  who  visit  the  houses  of  assignation 
at  convenient  intervals,  sometimes  nightly,  and  by  returning  in  toler- 
able season,  escape  detection  by  a  lie  in  their  mouths,  and  mingle 
with  the  daughters,  in  the  families  where  they  live,  passing  for  virtu- 
ous women.  One  of  these  who  has  forsaken  her  evil  ways,  states  that 
she  met  one  man  every  Tuesday  night,  and  another  every  Friday 
night,  for  months  together  without  missing  a  single  night,  and  without 
ever  incurring  suspicion. 

"  It  would  be  impossible  however  to  compress  withing  any  reason- 
able limits  the  multiplied  mischiefs,  and  disgusting  details  of  this  single 
iniquity  as  known  to  us,  by  reason  of  our  brief  connection  with  the 
Magdalen  Society.  Enougli  we  think  has  been  presented  to  awaken 
the  feelings  of  every  parent  in  this  community. 

"  Out  of  a  number  of  interesting  cases,  we  select  the  following, 
suppressing  the  real  names  for  obvious  reasons: 

M  A B ,  cet  21,  daughter  of  respectable  and  pious  parents 

in  a  neighboring  city,  at  a  very  early  age  was  seduced  from  her  home 
under  the  promise  of  marriage  by  a  young  man  who  took  her  by  sea 
to  a  southern  port,  where  he  kept  her  for  a  time  and  then  left  her  in  a 
brothel  in  a  strange  city.  She  now  gave  herself  up  to  a  life  of  pros- 
titution, and  went  from  one  city  to  another  until  she  came  to  New 
York,  where  she  has  been  the  last  two  years.  Her  drunkenness  and 
crime  have  taken  her  more  than  once  to  the  penitentiary,  and  she  had 
well  nigh  ruined  her  health.  Last  winter  she  was  turned  out  of  the 
brothel  in  which  she  lived  in  consequence  of  a  quarrel  with  the  woman 
who  occupied  it,  and  with  whom  she  boarded.  She  had  been  sick  for 
some  weeks,  disabled  from  pursuing  her  guilty  means  of  livelihood, 
her  clothes  had  found  their  way  to  the  pawn-brokers,  or  been  ex- 
changed for  ardent  spirits,  and  at  midnight  she  was  turned  into  tho 
street  without  any  other  garment  than  a  ragged  calico  frock,  filthy 
beyond  description,  without  bonnet  or  shoes,  in  one  of  the  coldest 
nights  of  the  last  winter.     She   wandered  through   the  street,  drunk 


1-8  ASMODEOUS ;  OR, 

from  the  excesses  of  the  previous  night,  and  was  found  in  the  morning 
about  day  light,  standing  in  an  alley  near  the  '  Five  Points'  and 
brought,  shivering  with  cold,  to  the  Probationary  House.  Iter  face 
and  limbs  were  bloated  by  intemperance,  and  the  effects  of  the  frost 
seemed  to  have  stupefied  her  reason,  and  well  nigh  destroyed  her  life* 
By  the  most  careful  nursing  and  medical  attention  she  was  restored, 
in  a  few  days,  to  tolerable  health,  but  the  effects  of  the  frost  on  her 
feet  continued  for  months.  From  the  first  she  exhibited  the  liveliest 
gratitude  for  her  deliverance,  and  manifested  a  disposition  to  render 
cheerful  obedience  to  all  the  rules  of  the  house*  Soon  she  became 
interested  in  the  religious  services  of  the  house,  and  was  taken  to  the 
Asylum,  and  shortly  after  gave  satisfactory  evidence  of  a  change  of 
heart.  Ever  since  she  has  adorned  her  profession,  and  formed  habits 
of  cleanliness  and  industry." 


Here  is  a  picture  of  the  life  and  condition  of  the  lost  and  unfortunate 
women  of  New  York.  It  exhibits  a  degree  of  degradation,  of  misery 
and  of  wo  unspeakable. 

This  report,  made  nearly  eighteen  years  ago,  even  then  in  the  opin. 
ion  of  the  best  informed,  underrated  the  number  of  these  unfortunate 
women.  Since  tha*t  period  the  population  of  the  city  and  its  suburbs 
has  nearly  doubled  itself;  and  as  Vice  outstrips  population,  we  may 
reasonably  infer  that  full  Twenty  Thousand  Prostitutes,  both  public 
and  private>  are  now  plying  their  lamentable  trade  in  the  city  of  New 
York. 


CHAPTER    II 


THE    MODEL    ARTISTE. 


Loiter  with  me,  reader,  some  afternoon  on  the  Battery.  There 
you  will  behold  many  beautiful,  but  frail  women. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  May,  just  before  the  sun  was  sinking  to  his 
polden  bed.  I  was  seated  with  a  companion  on  the  Battery,  near  the 
entrance  to  Castle  Garden. 

Soon  there  passed  a  lady  of  beautiful  form  and  most  lovely  coun- 
tenance, yet  seemingly  saddened  by  some  secret  sorrow.  Her  slender 
form  and  damask  cheek  told  too  plainly  that  the  blossoms  of  her  life 
were  withering,  and  that  she  was  in  the  incipient  stages  of  consump- 
tion. But  this  disease,  though  it  had  dimmed  the  healthful  and  lively 
f  xpression  of  her  features,  yet  had  rendered  them  even  more  lovely 
and  interesting  to  behold. 

My  companion  spoke,  and  asked  :  "  Can  you  tell  who  that  girl  is  ?" 

"  No  ;  I  never  saw  her  before,"  replied  I. 

"  I  can  tell  you  who  she  is — she  is  a  model  artiste.  Sit  still  a  mo- 
ment, and  I  will  speak  to  her." 

My  companion  was  gone  for  a  moment,  and,  after  having  spoken 
with  the  lady,  returned. 

"There  is  something  very  interesting  in  the  history  of  that  girl," 
paid  he,  resuming  his  seat  by  my  side. 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  it,  and  would  like  to  know,  too,  what  effect 
her  taking  the  part  of  a  model  artiste  has  had  upon  her  morals.  Has 
she  fallen  ?  or  what  is  her  character  ?" 

M  She  has  fallen,  but  it  was  not  the  exhibition  of  herself  a*  a  r^nlel 
artiste  that  ruined  her." 

"The  wily  arts  of  some  seducer,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  It  was  not  the  wily  arts  of  any  seducer." 

"  Her  own  wanton  disposition,  then,  led  her  astray  V 

'•  \o,  it  was  not  that,  either." 

"Flow,  then,  did  she  fall  from  the  high  estate  of  virtue  ?" 


18 

"  Well,  I  am  going  to  see  her  this  evening,  and  you  may,  if  you 
please,  go  along,  and  perhaps  she  may  tell  the  story  of  her  wrongs 
from  her  own  lips." 

"  I  should  like  to  go,  and,  if  possible,  draw  from  her  the  facts  of  her 
own  history. " 


Evening  came,  and  we  set  out  to  call  on  the  model  artiste.  We 
found  her  in  a  small  house  in  Twelfth-streel,  boarding  with  a  widow 
lady. 

As  we  entered,  she  was  introduced  to  me  as  Miss  Jane  Morrison. 
She  had  a  small  room  on  the  second  floor,  plainly,  but  comfortably 
furnished. 

We  found  her  reading  the  Bible,  and  her  eyes  somewhat  swollen 
and  red,  as  though  she  had  just  recovered  from  a  fit  of  tears.  Her 
countenance  was  intelligent,  and  rendered  more  lovely  by  a  tinge  of 
melancholy  sadness,  that  was  rendered  more  apparent  by  the  cheerful 
smile  she  strove  to  wear. 

"You  have  not  come  to  arrest  me,  I  hope  ?"  were  the  first  words 
she  spoke. 

"  Surely  not,"  said  my  companion  ;  "  you  would  not  deem  me  so 
base  as  thus  to  betray  you." 

"  No,  I  hope  not.  With  all  my  sin,  I  have  never  yet  been  to  prison. 
That  would  crush  me  at  once.  All  I  desire  is  to  be  permitted  to  live 
and  die  in  peace." 

"  Fear  nothing  from  us,"  I  said  ;  "  we  are  your  friends,  and  have 
come  to  see  if  we  can  do  you  any  good." 

These  remarks  seemed  to  compose  her  mind  ;  and  after  some 
further  conversation,  we  at  last  succeeded  in  inducing  her  to  reveal  to 
us  the  history  of  her  life. 

She  was  born,  she  said,  in  Orange  county,  New  York,  and  at  the 
age  of  twelve,  lost  her  mother.  Within  a  year  or  two  afterward  she 
came  under  the  care  of  a  step-mother.  The  result  was  what  might 
be  anticipated.  She  was  aggrieved,  or  fancied  herself  aggrieved, 
and  left  her  home  at  the  age  of  seventeen. 

She  came  to  the  City  of  New  York,  and  resided  for  some  time  with 
a  female  cousin  who  was  married  to  a  man  in  moderate  circumstances. 
Here  she  acquired  the  art  and  mystery  of  dress-making,  and  was 
accustomed  to  "  work  out  in  families,"  by  which  means  she  obtained 
a  respectable  living. 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  19 

I  My  ruin,"  she  said,  "  was  wrought  by  a  man  of  high  standing  in 
society.  He  resides  within  sight  of  Union  Square,  and  he  was  then, 
and  still  is,  a  member  of  Calvary  Church." 

We  pressed  her  to  reveal  his  name,  but  she  refused. 

••  Nothing  would  induce  me  to  disclose  his  name.  O,  I  have  loved 
that  man  !"  said  she,  wringing  her  hands  in  grief.  "  He  is  married, 
nml  I  would  not  expose  him  for  the  world." 

"  How  did  you  form  your  acquaintance  with  this  man  ?"  I  inquired. 

'•  It  was  at  the  model  artistes,"  she  answered,  blushingly. 

"  How  happened  it  that  you  joined  the  company  Vs 

"  My  health  had  failed  me,  and  the  physicans  told  me  I  must 
abandon  the  needle  or  die.  By  the  advice  of  some  friends,  I  went  to 
a  water-cure  establishment,  and  remained  until  f  had  spent  all  my 
money.  I  had  not  sufficiently  recovered  to  he  able  to  resume  my 
occupation  with  the  needle  ;  and  being  without  money  and  a  home,  I 
went  to  my  cousin's,  and  remained  for  a  short  time.  While  there,  I 
perceived  that  I  was  not  welcome — and  indeed  they  had  not  the  means 
to  accommodate  me.  Still,  in  order  to  help  all  I  could,  I  did  what 
sewing  I  was  able,  which  was  fast  bringing  back  my  malady — a  pain 
In  the  side — in  an  aggravated  form.     What  could  I  then  do?" 

"  Why  did  you  not  apply  to  your  friends  for  assistance  ?" 

"  I  had  depended  on  my  cousin  until  she  was  almost  ready  to  turn 
me  out  of  doors  !" 

"  Had  you  not  other  friends  who  would  have  extended  to  vou  some 
aid?" 

u  The  poor,  you  know,  have  no  friends.  There  were  some  ladies 
for  whom  I  had  worked  that  had  been  friendly  to  me,  and  I  applied  to 
them,  but  without  success,  except  in  one  instance,  and  that  was  tho 

wife  of  Mr.  P ,  the  one  of  whom  I  have  spoken  as  the  cause  of  my 

fall.     But  I  should  not  say  he  was  tho  cause." 

14  Who,  then,  was  the  cause?" 

II  It  was  want — it  was  my  dependent,  desolate,  suffering  condition 
that  was  tho  cause  of  my  departure  from  tho  path  of  right.     Some 

assistance  I  received  from  Mrs.  P ,  but  I  could  not  long  depend 

on  her.  One  day,  when  strolling  through  tho  streets,  scarcely  know- 
ing  whither  I  was  going,  and  absorbed  in  thinking  over  my  destitute, 
and,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  hopeless  condition,  I  met  a  young  lady,  an 
acquaintance  of  mine,  dressed  in  silk,  with  a  gay  hat  and  an  elegant 
shawl,  and  seeming  to  be  very  happy. 

14 '  Why  do  you  look  so  sad  V  said  she. 
"  '  I  cannot  help  it,'  replied  I. 
2 


20  '  ASMODEtTS;   OR, 

"  1 1  know  what  is  the  matter,'  said  she,  '  you  are  killing  yourself 
with  the  needle  ;  and  because  you  are  unable  to  work,  you  are  suffer- 
ing with  want.     Cheer  up,  I  '11  tell  you  how  you  can  get  some  money.' 

"  '  I  should  like  to  get  some  money,  but  I  would  not  do  anything 
out  of  the  way,'  said  1,  suspecting  that  Emma  (for  that  was  her  name,) 
had  dressed  herself  in  that  style  by  means  of  the  wages  of  sin. 

"  '  I  can  tell  you,  Jane,  how  you  can  do  it  in  a  respectable  way. 
You  do  not  think  I  would  throw  myself  away  for  money,  do  you  V 

"  ■  O,  no,  I  do  not  think  you  would  ;  but  I  do  not  know  how  I  could 
earn  anything  and  be  respectable.' 

"'Do  it  as  I  do.' 

"  '  How  is  that  ?" 

"  '  By  the  model  artistes.' 

"  '  Do  you  think  that  I  would  exhibit  myself  in  that  manner  before 
an  audience  of  men  V 

"  '  To  be  sure  you  would.  There  is  no  harm  in  it.  Some  of  the 
most  respectable  ladies  in  the  city  are  in  our  company.  I  once  felt 
as  you  do,  but  I  have  got  over  it  now.  Come  along  with  me  ;  our 
manager  wants  to  engage  just  such  a  person  as  you.  You  have  a 
beautiful  form,  you  will  take  Well,  and  can  get  a  high  salary.  Come 
along ;  let  us  go  to  Taylor's  and  get  some  oysters,  and  then  go  with 
me  to  Pinteux's  to  the  rehearsal.     Come  along.' 

"  With  these  words,  and  especially  the  invitation  to  take  some 
oysters,  I  was  induced  to  accompany  her  to  Taylor's  saloon,  and  from 
thence  to  Pinteux's. 

"  At  Pinteux's  I  witnessed  the  rehearsal,  at  which  I  experienced  a 
shock  to  my  feelings  ;  yet,  being  on  the  brink  of  starvation,  I  yielded 
to  the  entreaties  of  my  companion  and  to  the  solicitations  of  the  mana- 
ger, and  made  an  engagement  at  fifteen  dollars  per  week,  with  a  pro- 
mise of  an  increase  to  twenty  dollars.  Perhaps  1  should  not  even  then 
have  accepted  this  offer,  had  not  the  manager,  perceiving  my  destitute 
condition,  presented  me  with  live  dollars  in  advance. 

"  I  now  left  with  Emma,  and  took  board  at  the  same  house  with  her. 
On  the  following  day,  I  attended  with  her  again,  to  take  part  myself, 
for  the  first  time,  in  the  rehearsal. 

"  My  feelings  soon  became  inured  to  the  exhibition,  and  I  was  able 
to  go  through  my  part  in  a  manner  that  gave  satisfaction.  But  the 
only  gratifying  circumstance  connected  with  the  engagement,  was  the 
income  it  afforded,  which  gave  to  me  a  comfortable  supporl  and  an 
honorable  independence. 

■•  But  on  a  sudden  this  bright  vision  passed  away.     From  the  hight 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  21 

of  mv  prosperity,  I  was  plunged  at  once  into  the  deepest  abyss  of 
misery. 

••  You  perhaps  may  remember  that  Sunday  night  when  the  police 
made  a  descent  on  the  Pinteux  company.  I  was  then  hurried  off, 
shivering  in  the  cold,  to  prison. 

"O  !  the  horror — the  indescribable  anguish  of  that  dreadful  night  ! 
I  can  never  recall  its  scenes  without  shuddering  !  I  was  frantic.  I 
was  in  prison,  and  for  what  ?  Not  foi  theft  or  murder.  That  I  could 
have  endured,  for  they  dethrone  not  woman's  virtue. 

*'  But  I  was  imprisoned,  degraded  for  indecency,  for  a  crime  of  all 
others  the  most  humiliating  and  painful  to  woman.  I  was  jn  despair, 
too,  at  the  loss  of  my  living  and  of  all  my  hopes. 

11  In  this  desperate  and  distressing  situation,  a  hand  of  kindness  was 
extended  to  me.     Was  it  not  natural  that  I  should  seize  on  it  ?" 
'    M  Did  some  friend,  then,  come  to  your  aid  ?"  asked  I. 

M  While  drowned  in  tears  and  absorbed  in  anguish  at  the  prospect 
before  me,  a  gentleman  appeared  and  spoke  gently  to  me.     I  looked 

up  and  beheld  Mr.  P ,  the  husband  of  the  lady  for  whom  I  had 

formerly  worked,  and  who  had  befriended  me  when  I  was  in  want. 

"  In  the  morning,  Mr.  P came  again,  and  procuring  my  dis- 
charge, took  me  under  his  charge.  My  living  was  gone,  and  he  sup- 
ported me.  I  could  not  starve,  and  consequently  I  yielded,  and — was 
— lost — lost  for  ever  !"  And  uttering  these  words,  she  burst  into  a 
violent  paroxysm  of  tears. 

From  the  friend  that  accompanied  me,  I  learned  that  this  girl  had, 
after  a  short  time,  been  abandoned  by  the  pious  gentleman  who  had 
taken  her  under  his  Christian  protection,  and  had  been  compelled  to 
make  another  engagement  in  the  company  of  model  artistes,  at 
Pinteux's. 

My  friend  informed  me  that  she  was  the  chief  attraction  of  the  com- 
pany.  Her  form  was  one  of  perfect  symmetry,  and  faultless  propor- 
tions, and  the  Grecian  outline  of  her  features  were  cast  in  an  expres- 
sion of  angelic  mildness  and  love.  Added  to  this,  her  graceful  and 
natural  attitudes  made  her  one  of  the  most  beautiful  sights  to  behold. 
She  was  the  favorite  of  the  company,  and  was  always  received  with 
loud  applause. 

Those  who  witnessed  her  personation  of  the  Greek  Slave,  have 
avowed  that  her  figure  and  her  graceful  ease  surpassed  that  of  the 
creation  of  the  genius  of  Powers.  Also,  her  representation  of  Venus 
coming  from  the  bath,  and  other  characters,  were  distinguished  by 
the  modesty  and  grace  of  her  demeanor  and  attitudes,  which,  together 
2* 


22  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

with  the  beauty  of  her  form  and  features,  rendered  the  exhibition  one 
that  might  enrapture  the  artist  and  pure  minded  lover  of  nature. 

Nevertheless,  such  exhibitions  are  notoriously  of  an  immoral 
tendency,  and  cannot  be  too  strongly  condemned. 

This  poor  girl,  after  having  been  thus  abandoned,  again  sought  em- 
ployment, and  appeared  at  Pinteux's,  Palmo's,  and  at  the  Temple  of 
the  Muses,  until  these  exhibitions  were  broken  up  by  the  authorities, 
when  she  soon  became  reduced  to  the  destitute  condition  in  which  we 
found  her  in  the  house  in  Twelfth -street. 

At  the  time  we  visited  her,  she  had  become  indebted  for  board  and 
was  penniless.  To  add  to  her  misery,  she  was  now  fast  fading  away 
before  the  burning  influence  of  a  quick  consumption. 

After  having  afforded  her  the  means  of  temporary  relief,  we  departed, 
promising  to  call  again. 


A  week  or  two  afterward,  with  my  friend,  I  visited  for  the  last  time 
this  poor,  unfortunate  girl. 

She  was  now  fast  sinking  into  the  grave.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed 
with  the  hectic  hue  of  death,  and  formed  a  beautiful  contrast  with  the 
pale  wanness  of  her  interesting  countenance,  whose  expression  seemed 
to  grow  more  lovely  ae  she  approached  the  confines  of  another  world. 

We  found  her  sitting  in  an  arm-chair,  and,  as  on  the  former  occa- 
sion, with  the  Bible  in  her  hands,  endeavoring  to  draw  from  that 
sacred  book  the  consolations  there  held  out  to  the  forlorn  and  the 
forsaken. 

Pearly  tear-drops  trickled  down  her  sunken  cheeks,  as  she  greeted 
us  with  a  pleasant  smile  that  seemed  like  a  gleam  of  sunlight  breaking 
through  the  misty  rain-drops  of  a  gentle  shower. 

Poor  girl  !  Doomed  early  in  life  to  trials  too  severe  for  her  tender 
years,  she  had  fallen  into  the  deep  abyss  of  wo,  and  at  a  time  when 
she  had  once  hoped  to  enter  on  all  the  duties  and  enjoyments  of  which 
the  young  heart  is  susceptible,  without  reputation,  without  friends, 
without  home,  she  was  sinking  silently  to  the  dust,  unloved,  unwept, 
and  unremembered.  Often  she  recalled  the  fond  caresses  and  the 
tender  lave  of  her  mother.  Now,  in  her  last  dying  moments,  that 
mother  was  gone,  never  more  to  return  !  O  I  were  she  now  present, 
with  what  an  aching  heart  and  tearful  eyes  would  she  press  this  forlorn 
child  to  her  bosom,  and  watch  over  her  until  the  last  flickering  light 
of  life  had  died  out !     A  father  she  had.  but  no  father's  care  was  now 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  23 

extended  over  her.  Brothers  bhe  had,  but  they  were  not  with  lier. 
Her  sister,  too,  whom,  to  have  seen  in  her  own  condition,  would  have 
broken  her  heart — she,  too,  was  away  and  unknowing  of  her  fate. 
Unpitied  and  alone,  with  no  sympathizing  companions  save  her  own 
unstayed  tears,  she  was  leaving  the  busy  crowds  of  the  world,  to  enter 
on  the  untried  and  unknown  future.  Her  hopes,  once  high  as  heaven, 
were  now  sunk  in  the  deepest  abyss  of  despair  !  Her  heart,  formed 
for  all  the  affections  and  endearments  of  life,  was  now  just  as  its  capa- 
bilities were  developed,  was  about  to  cease  to  beat  for  ever  ! 

Alas!  how  inscrutable  are  the  ways  of  Providence!  How  often 
are  the  guileless  led  into  sin  !  How  often  the  beautiful  and  the  good 
doomed  to  the  pangs  of  misery  and  the  melancholy  fate  of  an  early 
grave  ! 

But  let  us  not  murmur  !  Rather  bow  with  submission  to  the  decrees 
of  an  All-Wise  Providence. 


After  a  few  moments  conversation  with  Miss  Morrison,  relative  to 
her  health  and  condition,  she  became  calm,  for  she  had  at  first  been 
much  affected  on  our  entering  the  room. 

I  having  referred  to  her  situation,  she  replied  : 

"  I  know  I  must  soon  die  !  The  green  fields  and  the  warbling 
brooks  that  I  loved  when  a  child,  I  shall  never  see  again.  Home, 
father,  brother  and  sister,  I  have  seen  them  for  the  last  time,  and  now 
I  am  to  die  alone  and  among  strangers."  With  these  words,  she  fell 
to  violent  weeping. 

Again  she  became  calm,  and  requested  an  account  of  her  conduct 
to  be  sent  to  her  father,  witli  the  reasons  that  induced  her  to  join  the 
company  of  the  model  artistes. 

"  I  wish,"  said  she,  "  my  father  to  know  the  true  reasons  that  in- 
duced me  to  join  the  company." 

"  Does  he  already  know  that  you  have  been  a  member  of  the  com- 
pany ?"  inquired  I. 

"  Yes,  he  has  heard,  and  not  knowing  the  cause  of  it,  was  very 
angry  with  me  ;  and  that  is  the  reason  I  could  not  return  to  my  home 
when  this  last  illness  came  upon  me." 

"But  did  you  not  explain  the  circumstances  ?" 
•  No ;  I  never  wrote  to  him  after  I  knew  he  had  found  it  out,  and 
wag  offended  at  me  for  it." 

'  Had  you  told  him  all  the  circumstances,  he  would  have  forgiven 
you." 


U  ASMODEUS;  OR, 

"  Perhaps  he  might ;  but  he  is  a  stern  man,  and  I  was  from  that 
time  afraid  to  write.  But  I  now  wish  him  to  know  that  it  was  want 
which  brought  me  to  it — the  cause  that  drove  me  to  it."  And  as  she 
said  these  words,  her  tears  broke  forth  afresh. 

Soon  after  this  we  left,  promising  to  call  again  on  the  morrow,  but 
that  morrow  she  never  lived  to  see. 

When  we  called  again,  the  lady  with  whom  she  had  boarded  met 
us  at  the  door,  and  said  : 

"  Poor  girl,  she  's  gone  now  ;  1  was  sorry  for  her,  she  seemed  to  be 
so  good  and  to  suffer  so  much  in  her  mind." 

"  But  she  died  sooner  than  you  anticipated  ?"  inquired  we. 

"  Yes,  poor  thing  ;  she  took  on  greatly  after  you  left,  saying  she 
wished  she  could  go  home.  She  said  her  father  would  forgive  her, 
and  she  wanted  to  write  to  him  to  come  after  her." 

"  That  is  what  we  intended  to  do ;  we  were  about  to  write  to  her 
father,  that  he  might  reach  here  before  she  died." 

"  She  got  her  paper  and  was  sitting  down  to  write,  when  her  feelings 
overcame  her,  and  she  fell  to  crying  most  bitterly.  This  started  the 
blood  from  her  lungs,  and  she  then  soon  fell  away,"  said  the  old  lady, 
wiping  a  tear  from  her  eye. 

She  resumed  again,  saying  : 

"  The  girl  seemed  to  think  every  thing  of  her  father,  for  she  talked 
of  him  as  long  as  life  lasted." 

"  How  long  did  she  live  ?" 

"  But  about  two  hours  after  the  bleeding  commenced  ;  and  the  last 
thing  she  said  was,  '  O,  my  father,  I  have  offended  thee  !  My  mother, 
I  am  going  to  meet  you  !  May  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  my  soul  V 
And  with  these  words,  her  speech  was  gone." 

Such  was  the  career  and  unfortunate  termination  of  the  life  of  a 
beautiful,  intelligent,  and  interesting  young  girl,  who  had  left  a 
pleasant  and  comfortable  home  in  the  country,  for  the  dangers  and 
temptations  of  a  city  life. 

When  will  girls,  who  have  good  homes  in  the  country,  learn  to  be 
content,  and  to  shun  the  devouring  maelstroms  of  a  corrupt  and 
corrupting  city  ? 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE    THREE    SISTERS — AS    MODEL    ARTISTES. 

In  the  Police  court  appears  a  group  of  interesting  females — three 
of  them  young  and  beautiful — the  elder  a  round,  plump,  good-looking 
widow  of  forty,  and  the  mother  of  the  other  three. 

She  is  a  magnificent  looking  woman,  tall,  stately,  of  full,  round 
proportions,  almost  giant-like  in  dimensions.  Her  complexion  is 
florid,  her  hair  of  a  bright  glossy  brown,  and  her  eyes  full  and  lan- 
guishing, indicating  a  sensual  and  voluptuous  disposition. 

The  nature  of  the  business  that  brought  her  thither  is  explained  by 
the  affidavit  in  which  she  had  sworn, 

"That  her  three  daughters,  Isabella ,  Louisa ,  and 

Elizabeth  ,  conducted  themselves  in  a  disorderly  manner,  and 

will  not  obey  the  instructions  or  authority  of  their  parent,  but  against 
deponent's  consent  and  orders,  exhibited  themselves  in  an  unbecoming 
manner  and  against  public  decency  and  good  morals,  by  appearing 
before  the  public  in  an  undress,  as  Model  Artistes,  much  to  their  dis- 
grace, and  as  deponent  fears,  leading  to  their  ruin.  Deponent  further 
says  that  she  has  seen  her  daughters,  named  aforesaid,  appear  at  a 
public  exhibition  held  at  Palmo's  Theatre,  in  Chambers-street,  in  the 
manner  as  set  forth  aforesaid.  Deponent  therefore  prays  that  her 
daughters  named  aforesaid,  may  be  arrested  and  dealt  with  as  the  law 
directs  in  such  cases  made  and  provided." 

Isabella,  the  eldest  of  the  truant  daughters,  was  about  twenty-one 
years  of  age,  of  medium  stature,  but  graceful  form,  and  an  expressive 
countenance,  indicative  of  deep  passion. 

Louisa,  the  second  sister,  was  eighteen,  taller,  of  a  more  beautiful 
form,  and  of  a  blonde  complexion,  lively  and  expressive  features,  dis- 
tinguished by  great  beauty.     She  was  a  most  beautiful  model. 

Elizabeth,  the  youngest,  and  yet  the  tallest  and  most  beautiful  of 
the  three,  was  less  than  sixteen.  Her  form  was  faultless — of  a  full 
voluptuous  bust — tall,  yet  not  thin,  but  of  a  full  and  gracefully  turned 


26  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

contour — in  stature  resembling  Powers'  Greek  Slave,  but  in  develops 
ment  more  like  the  celebrated  Venus  de  Medicis.  Her  Grecian  fea- 
tures seemed  lit  with  the  Promethean  fire  of  genius,  and  wore  an 
expression  of  divine  loveliness. 

Pauline  Bonaparte,  the  sister  of  Napoleon,  renowned  as  the  most 
beautiful  woman  of  her  age,  and  whom  the  great  Canova  obtained  to 
appear  in  his  studio  as  a  model,  was  not  more  beautiful  than  the 
youngest  of  these  sisters. 

The  proportions  of  Elizabeth,  embodied  in  marble,  stand  as 
a  more  fitting  emblem  of  female  beauty  than  the  Greek  Slave  of 
Powers. 

Such  were  the  three  model  artistes,  and  here  they  were  before  the 
tribunal  of  justice,  with  their  mother  as  their  accuser. 

The  examination  proceeded,  and  the  following  developments  were 
made,  which  exhibit  a  most  startling  condition  in  the  morals  of  the 
society  of  this  Babylon  of  the  New  World. 

One  morning  last  winter  the  manager  of  Palmo's  was  visited  by  a 
large,  noblerlooking  woman,  dressed  in  plain  style,  who  was  the  mother 
of  these  three  daughters. 

"  I  have  come,"  said  she,  "  in  answer  to  the  advertisement  I  saw  in 
the  '■  Sun,'  for  girls,  who  it  is  said  can  have  light  employment  and  good 
wages." 

"Take  a  seat,"  replied  the  manager. 

"  What  is  the  nature  of  the  employment  ?"  asked  the  lady,  taking 
a  chair. 

"  It  is  to  appear  in  our  company,"  said  the  manager  with  a  bland 
smile. 

"Your  company;  that  is,  the  model  artistes,  I  suppose,"  said  the 
lady  not  the  least  abashed. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  manager,  "we  have  a  fine  company,  and  are 
all  very  respectable  ladies  too. 

"I  fear  it  will  not  be  a  proper  place  for  young  ladies." 

"  Fear  nothing  on  that  score.  The  young  ladies  of  my  establish- 
ment are  all  well  protected." 

"  There  are  some  ladies  of  my  acquaintance  that  wished  me  to 
call  and  inquire  into  the  nature  of  the  employment,  and  what  the  pay 
would  be." 

"Well,  it  depends  on  the  young  ladies.  If  they  are  well  adapted 
for  the  performance,  they  shall  have  good  salaries — from  nine  to  fifteen 
dollars  a  week." 

"  They  are,  I  believe,  very  beautiful  girls." 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  29 

"  Will  you  not  come  and  bring  the  young  ladies  with  you  and  wit- 
ness the  performances  ?" 

This  was  agreed  to,  and  the  buxom  widow  departed. 


The  widow  returned  to  her  home. 

"  What  news,  mother?"  inquired  all  the  daughters  at  once,  as  she 
entered  the  house. 

"  O  !  good  news  !  It  is  the  model  artistes.  He  will  give  from  nine 
to  fifteen  dollars  a  week,  and  has  invited  us  to  come  and  see  the 
performance." 

u  I  should  not  like  to  go  and  sit  among  all  the  men  and  look  on. 
Are  there  any  ladies  in  the  audience  ?"  asked  Isabella. 

"  I  do  not  know ;  but  he  will  give  us  a  private  box,  where  we  can 
gee  and  not  be  seen." 

"O,  that  is  good.  I  should  like  to  go,"  said  one  of  the  younger 
girls. 

The  mother  and  her  three  daughters  repaired  to  Palmo's  and  were 
provided  with  a  private  box.  They  witnessed  the  exhibition  and  were 
satisfied  they  should  be  willing  to  appear  in  it. 

Before  the  performance  was  closed,  the  manager  entered  the  box, 
and  inquired : 

"How  do  you  like  the  performance,  ladies?" 

"  We  are  satisfied  with  it,"  replied  the  lady,  at  the  same  time 
saying :  "  these  are  the  young  ladies  who  wish  to  engage  in  the 
company." 

The  manager,  after  viewing  them  with  delight  for  a  few  moments, 
asked : 

"  Do  they  wish  to  make  the  engagement  themselves  ?" 

"  Yes,  they  are  willing." 

"  Do  they  reside  in  the  city  V 

"Yes." 

14  In  what  street?" 

"In  Suffolk-street." 

"  Have  they  parents  V* 

"They  have  a  mother." 

"  And  you  are  the  mother  ?     There  is  a  family  likeness,"  said  the 
manager,  having  eagerly  eyed  them  for  a  moment. 
'  F  confess  I  am  the  mother,"  replied  she. 

The  party  now  retired  to  thd  manager's  room,  and  a  bargain- was 


30  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

agreed  on,  by  which  the  daughters  were  to'  have  nine  dollars  per 
week,  after  they  should  have  properly  qualified  themselves  by  repeated 
rehearsals. 

The  girls  regularly  appeared  with  the  mother  at  the  rehearsals,  and 
at  length  made  their  debut  before  the  public. 

At  first  their  embarrassment  was  so  great  that  it  was  with  difficulty 
they  could  preserve  their  attitude  ;  but  they  soon  gained  steady  nerves, 
and  went  through  their  parts  with  much  eclat.  The  younger  in  par- 
ticular, was  greatly  admired,  and  became  famous  among  the  bloods 
for  her  magnificent  form  and  graceful  attitudes. 

Had  this  been  all  of  the  model  artistes,  perhaps  it  had  been  well  for 
them  ;  but  other  trials  and  temptations  awaited  these  doomed  victims. 

The  nature  of  these  temptations  may  be  gathered  from  the  following 
scene,  which  took  place  one  evening  at  the  close  of  the  performance  : 
"  I  say,  Bob,  where  did  you  get  that  Venus  coming  from  the  bath  V 
eagerly  asked  a  young  man  dressed  in  the  very  hight  of  fashion,  as 
he  entered  the  private  room  of  the  manager  at  the  fall  of  the  curtain 
one  evening. 

"She  is  a  New  York  gal,  and  I  have  got  in  the  company  her  two 
sisters  also,  who  are  almost  equally  beautiful,"  replied  the  manager, 
who  seemed  to  be  on  familiar  terms  with  the  visitor,  whose  name  was 
Frank  Colton. 

"But  you  must  introduce  me  to  her  at  once,"  said  Frank,  im- 
patiently. 

"  Ah !  no ;  I  can't  do  that.  I  have  promised  that  pleasure  to 
another.  But  I  can  introduce  you  to  her  sister  next  older.  She  is  a 
perfect  beauty." 

Soon  another  gentleman  entered. 

It  was  the  one  who  was  to  be  introduced  to  the  youngest  sister. 
He  was  also  a  young  man  dressed  in  rich  and  fashionable  style. 

These  two  gentlemen  were  introduced  to  the  two  youngest  sisters, 
and  accompanied  by  the  manager  and  the  elder  sister,  sat  down  to  an 
oyster-supper,  at  which  they  all  freely  partook  of  champagne. 

In  the  meantime,  the  mother,  who  generally  accompanied  her 
daughters,  was  this  evening  persuaded  to  go  home  alone  and  leave 
the  young  ladies  under  the  protection  of  the  manager,  who  promised 
to  see  them  safely  home. 

The  sisters  had  seen  little  of  the  world,  and  at  home  had  suffered 
at  times  much  for  want  of  the  comforts  of  life,  and  had,  too,  become 
partly  alienated  in  their  affections  toward  their  mother  in  consequence 
of  her  tvrannieal  and  sometimes  cruel  treatment,.arising  from  her  bad 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORE.  3t 

temper,  and  occasional  immoderate  use  of  strong  drinl:.  They  there- 
fore naturally  felt  pleased  with  the  attentions  paid  them,  and  wen* 
easily  led  on  from  step  to  step  to  the  abyss  of  ruin. 

The  school  of  the  model  artistes  was  a  most  corrupt  one ;  destroy- 
ing all  of  purity  and  virtue  that  came  in  contact  with  it. 

Though  most  of  those  forming  the  company  of  exhibitors  had  pre- 
viously become  so  hardened  in  iniquity  as  to  receive  no  additional 
injury  from  its  contaminating  influences,  yet  many  others  who  pos- 
sessed both  virtue  and  beauty,  were  induced  by  suffering  and  want 
to  enter  the  vortex  of  this  devouring  maelstrom,  and  once  within 
its  influence,  they  were  drawn  by  giddy  whirls  to  the  bottom  of 
perdition. 

Thanks  to  an  enlightened  and  respectable  portion  of  the  community, 
they  have  been  put  down,  never,  we  trust,  to  re-appear  again. 

The  person  who  introduced  this  corrupting  exhibition  into  the 
United  States,  is  a  person  by  the  name  of  Collyer,  an  Englishman, 
who  has  hitherto  led  an  itinerant  life,  in  the  character  first  of  a  pre- 
tended phrenologist,  and  afterward  of  a  mesmeriser,  in  which  last 
character  he  at  one  time  became  quite  notorious  in  Boston. 

One  word  as  to  the  character  of  the  audiences. 

The  spectators  were  many  of  them  lecherous  old  and  dissipated 
young  men.  Many  visited  a  night  or  two  out  of  curiosity,  and  among 
these  were  a  large  number  of  strangers  from  other  parts  of  the 
country. 

The  result  of  the  examination  before  the  police  may  be  briefly 
stated. 

It  appears  that  the  manager  and  the  mother  had  fallen  into 
some  disagreement;  the  latter  alledging  that  her  daughters  were 
subjected  to  improper  influences;  and  the  former  charging  that  the 
mother  was  intemperate  and  troublesome,  and  therefore  he  had  been 
obliged  to  eject  her  from  the  theatre. 

Hence  the  complaint  by  the  mother.  . 

The  daughters,  who  had  become  corrupted  and  attached  to  the  new 
scenes  and  excitements  in  this  path  of  life,  sided  with  the  manager, 
and  desired  to  remain  in  the  company.  Denying  that  they  were  under 
any  improper  influence,  they  were  allowed  to  depart,  while  the  man- 
ager was  released  on  nominal  bail. 


CHAPTER    IV. 


THE    COUNTERFEITERS. 


At  midnight,  wander  through  this  city. 

Look  upon  the  countless  houses  and  reflect  what  is  going  on 
within. 

Yonder  is  the  peaceful  sleep  of  innocence,  and  beneath  that  other 
roof  skulks  the  guilty  murderer,  trembling  at  his  own  shadow. 

Here  we  behold  the  wearied  and  sated  with  luxury,  and  there 
poverty  in  its  squalor  and  rags  lies  down  on  a  bed  of  straw,  gnawed 
by  the  anguish  of  hunger  and  exhaustion. 

Pause  now  in  front  of  that  respectable  looking  house.  In  the  rear 
is  a  building,  beneath  whose  roof  and  within  its  bolted  doors  are  seven 
men  in  their  shirt-sleeves,  all  hard  at  work. 

They  are  counterfeiting  the  notes  of  one  of  our  banks,  and  the  silver 
coin  of  our  country. 

Silver,  and  other  metals,  and  engravings  on  steel,  piles  of  notes,  and 
base  coin,  fill  the  safe. 

Along  the  narrow  alley  is  heard  a  step  approaching  the  house  in 
the  rear. 

"Down  with  your  hammer,  and  not  a  word  from  one  of  you," 
murmured  the  man  on  guard,  in  trembling  tones. 

"  Hush,  now  :  some  one  is  coming.  Hustle  those  notes  into  the 
safe.  Put  every  thing  into  the  safe  and  lower  it  into  the  vault. 
Spring  for  your  lives!"  uttered  a  low  voice  within. 

"  Whitney,  who  can  it  be  ?  There  are  more  than  one  of  them.  It 
must  be  a  band  of  police !"  exclaimed  the  guard  in  terror. 

"  Hush  all  your  fears,"  said  the  low  voice  which  was  that  of  Whit- 
ney, who  seemed  to  be  the  leader  of  the  gang.  "  No  man  shall  be 
admitted,  and  whoever  attempts  to  force  his  way  shall  receive  a  silent 
elung-shot  or  a  pistol-ball," 


THE  INiaUlTIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  33 

"  Haulsey  I"  again  exclaimed  the  guard  in  fear,  "  blow  out  that 
light  in  an  instant,  for  there  stands  several  persons  in  the  street  looking 
up  the  alley." 

"See  that  the  doors  are  all  fastened,  and  let  every  man  arm  himself, 
for  if  any  attempt  should  be  made,  blood  will  be  spilled,"  said  Whit- 
ney, in  a  low  but  firm  tone. 

"They  are  all  bolted.  But,  look!  For  God's  sake,  keep  still. 
Do  you  hear  that  voice  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Whitney  ;  "  and  From  this  window  I  will  answer  if  any 
of  them  speak." 

"  What  are  you  at  work  for  at  this  late  hour  of  the  night  ?"  asked  a 
voice  from  without,  in  a  bold  tone. 

"  Whitney,  tell  him  you  are  laboring  for  your  bread — tell  him 
quick,"  uttered  the  guard  in  almost  breathless  suspense. 

"I  am,  sir,"  answered  Whitney,  "  hard  at  work  in  making  packing, 
boxes  for  a  merchant  in  Cedar-street,  if  you  must  know  what  is  none 
of  your  business." 

"  But  why  do  you  work  so  late  ?" 

"  Because  the  boxes  must  be  done  to-morrow  morning." 

"  But  we  have  our  doubts  as  to  your  occupation.  We  must  there- 
fore  enter  and  satisfy  ourselves  of  this." 

"  We  grant  no  admission,  and  especially  at  this  late  hour." 

"  Men,  try  that  door  and  see  if  an  entrance  can  be  effected,"  said 
the  leader  of  the  band  outside. 

"  The  door  seems  strongly  barred  and  locked,"  answered  one  of 
the  men  who  with  two  or  three  others  had  tried  it. 

"  Why  do  you  wish  to  break  in  upon  my  premises  ?  I  have  told  you 
my  business,  and  at  this  time  of  night  !  cannot  admit  any  one.  Is  not 
that  enough  ?" 

"No;  we  have  our  doubts,  and  if  you  resist  our  demands,  we  shall 
be  strengthened  in  our  suspicions." 

"If  you  persist  in  your  attempts  to  enter,  I  shall  blow  your  brains 
out,"  exclaimed  Whitney,  brandishing  a  revolver  in  his  hand.  "At 
my  call,  I  have  men  who  will  come  to  my  assistance,  and  we  shall  be 
more  than  a  match  for  you." 

"  Ah !  you  rascal,  you  have  deceived  me  then ;  you  are  not 
making  packing  boxes  ;  you  are  doing  that  for  which  you  should  be 
arrested." 

"  Whitney  !  Whitney !  let  us  first  get  the  safe  and  all  things  secure 
jn  the  vault,"  said  one  of  the  men  within,  in  a  low  voice,  touching 
Whitney  on  the  shoulder. 


34  ASMODEUS;  OR, 

"  Yes ;  do  it,  while  I  talk  to  them  outside.     Be  quick,  and  fear  not," 
returned  Whitney,  with  a  sullen  grin. 

"Shall  we  light  a  lamp  ?"  asked  the  younger  of  the  seven. 

"  Yes !     There  is  nothing  to  fear,  boys.     They  are  now  moving  off," 
said  Whitney,  shutting  the  chamber  window. 

11  Oh,  d — n  the  luck,"  exclaimed  Whitney.     "Boys,  we  must  con- 
ceal  the  notes  on  our  persons,  and  secure  the  silver." 

"What  do  you  mean  to  do?"  asked  one  of  the  men. 

"  We  must  be  off  to  other  quarters.     We  are  suspected,  and  we 
must  move  at  once." 

"  Move  from  Mercer-street  or  you  are  lost !" 

"  My  God !  did  you  hear  that  voice  ?     Is  it  a  ghost,  or  a  voice  from 
the  other  world  ?     Do  you  hear  it,  boys  ?" 

"  Yes ;  but  where  did  it  come  from  ?     What  means  it  V 

"  Move  from  Mercer-street  or  you  are  lost !" 

"  My  God  !  that  voice  again  !     Can  it  be  a  ghost !     Men,  what  do 
you  think  ?"  exclaimed  Whitney,  with  some  anxiety. 

"  It  must  be  some  one  behind  the  brick  walls.     At  any  rate,  we 
must  move,  and  no  mistake." 

"  I  '11  speak  to  it.     What  voice  is  that  ?" 

"  There    comes    no    answer  !       But    let    us    listen    for    a    few 
minutes." 

"  It  is  no  voice  ;  it  must  have  been  but  imagination,"  said  Whitney, 
the  leader  of  the  gang. 

"  Let   us   then   proceed   to    business,"    said   several  voices,  in   a 
whisper. 

"  Shall  we  go  up  to  Albany,  and  there  carry  on  our  business,  or 
where  shall  we  go  ?"  asked  one  of  the  company. 

"  No,  not  to  Albany,  for  it  is  too  near  those  high  walls  at  Auburn," 
answered  another. 

"  Then  let  us  go  to  Greenport ;  that  is  a  retired  spot  where  we  can 
operate  without  disturbance." 

"  No,  that  won't  do — it  is  too  far  down  the  island  ;  for,  after  all, 
New  York  must  be  the  place  for  head-quarters." 

"That  is  according  to  my  mind.     But  what  do  you  say,  Whitney, 
in  regard  to  this  V 

"  I  will  tell  you,  men.     My  life  has  been  passed  amid  such  scenes, 
and  this  does  not  alarm  me.     Our  business  is  now  flourishing,  and  to 
keep  it  so,  New  York  is  the  place  for  head-quarters." 
"  But  do  you  know  of  a  good  place  ?" 
"  I  have  my  eye,  this  very  minute,  on  a  house  where,  in  times  past, 


THE  INIQUITIES  OP  NEW  YORK.  35 

the  business   of  counterfeiting  was   carried   on    for   years,   without 
exciting  the  least  suspicion;" 

"  And  you  say  it  was  never  found  out  ?"  I 

"  Never  has  it  been  suspected.     It  is  in  a  good  location." 

"  Where  is  it — in  Broadway  V 

"  No !  not  in  that  thoroughfare,  but  I  know  I  could  obtain  one  or 
more  rooms  in  it  this  very  night.  I  could  get  the  cellar  where  I  know 
there  are  secret  vaults  the  police  would  never  detect." 

"  Good  !  Is  that  really  so  ?  Then  that  is  the  place  :  let  us  have 
it." 

"  Secret  vaults  are  there,  did  you  say  ?" 

"  Go  ask  that  one  who  has  had  his  respite  from  the  gallows  some 
half-a-dozen  times,"  said  Whitney. 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  ?  Leman  ?" 

u  No  ;  but  one  with  whom  I  have  had  much  intercourse,  and  one 
who  was  brought  up  among  the  first  in  the  city,  and  who  used  to  say 
his  catechism  when  a  boy  as  well  as  I  did." 

*•  Whom,  then,  can  it  be  ?" 

"  It  is  Babe  the  pirate,  yonder.  Poor  fellow  !  he  has  had  affliction 
and  misery  enough  in  his  day." 

"  But  where  is  the  place  you  spoke  of?"  asked  one  of  the  company. 
"  If  we  were  in  Philadelphia  or  Baltimore,  I  would  know  where  to  go 
to,  but  I  don't  know  this  New  York  as  well." 

Whitney  now  rose  from  his  chair,  and  turning  his  long  black 
hair  from  his  narrow  forehead,  called  in  his  men  to  listen,  when  he 
was  interrupted  by  the  guard,  who  exclaimed  : 

"  We  had  better  remain  quiet  for  a  few  minutes !" 

"  Why  so  ?"  asked  one  of  the  men,  "  is  the  police  gang  returning  ?" 
At  the  same  time,  he  and  Whitney  advanced  toward  the  window  to 
look  out. 

"  No,"  answered  the  guard,  "  but  some  one  seems  to  be  watching 
the  building  !" 

Whitney  soon  returned,  and  gave  his  men  assurance  of  no  cause 
for  alarm.  He  then  arranged  his  plans  and  gave  directions  for  the 
removal  from  this  building. 

"  Having  now  arranged  all  things,  shall  I  go  this  moment  and 
engage  the  place  I  have  in  view  ?"  asked  their  leader. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply  of  all. 

"  I  will  soon  depart,  and  take  Hooper  with  me,  and  in  one  hour  we 
will  return  to  you  again,"  said  Whitney,  as  he  departed  with  his 
chosen  companions,  each  of  whom  was  armed  with  pistols  and  dirks. 
3 


36  ASMODEUS  j  OR, 

"  Stop,  stop,  a  moment !"  said  one  of  them,  "  will  you  tell  us  where 
this  house  is  ?" 

"  There  is  time  enough  for  all  that  yet,  and  on  our  return  you 
shall  know,"  said  Whitney. 

"  But  I  have  good  reason  for  asking." 

"  What  is  your  reason  ?" 

"  If  you  are  bound  to  a  place  that  you  know  is  safe— one  to  which 
we  can  go  at  any  time,  hadn't  you  better  take  the  keys  of  the  safe 
with  you,  and  deposite  them  in  the  cellar  ?" 

"That's  a  good  idea,  Whitney,"  said  Hooper,  "for  there  is  no 
telling  what  a  day  may  bring  forth.     What  say  you  ?" 

"  It  is  a  lucky  thought,"  replied  the  leader,  as  he  took  the  keys  and 
placed  them  in  a  belt  he  wore  about  his  waist. 

They  departed,  and  were  soon  in  Broadway. 

Down  that  thoroughfare  they  walk,  arm  in  arm,  to  Canal-street,  in 
which  they  enter  the  house  they  designed  to  occupy. 

"  It  was  occupied  by  a  congenial  spirit,  who  was  still  up,  and  with 
whom  they  soon  concluded  a  bargain.  Here  they  remained  till  the 
dawn  of  day,  when  they  returned  to  their  old  haunt  in  Mercer- 
street. 

Thus  they  evaded  the  "vigilance  of  the  police."  For  though  the 
police  had  kept  watch  of  the  house,  and  saw  these  two  men  come  out, 
yet  they  had  been  unable  to  track  them  to  the  house  in  Canal- 
street. 

The  policemen  thought  that  if  nothing  was  removed  during  that 
night,  no  attempt  at  removal  would  be  made  until  the  next  night, 
when  it  was  resolved  to  make  a  descent  on  the  premises  with  a  strong 
force. 

In  this  they  were  disappointed ;  for  Whitney  and  his  companions 
returning  at  daylight,  every  thing  was  in  half  an  hour  made  ready 
lor  removal. 

The  police,  apprehending  no  occurrence  of  this  kind  during  the 
day,  had  left  only  one  man  to  watch  the  premises. 

Him  Whitney  easily  managed  to  bribe,  and  soon  a  vehicle  belonging 
to  the  band  took  every  thing  off  in  a  couple  of  boxes,  while  the  com- 
pany,  one  by  one,  made  their  escape,  without  exciting  any  suspicion. 

The  next  night  they  were  at  work  again  in  their  new  quarters, 
where  they  remained  for  a  long  time,  unsuspected  and  unmolested. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  BETRAYER  AND  THE  BETRAYED. 

Let  the  reader  now,  in  imagination,  enter  a  well  furnished  room  in 
Canal-street,  near  Thompson.  Let  it  be  in  the  month  of  March,  on  a 
clear  cold  day,  and  at  the  hour  of  eleven  at  night. 

For  at  that  time  and  place,  a  middle  aged  man,  an  actor  on  the 
stage  of  one  of  the  New  York  theatres,  entered  this  room,  where  a 
very  young  woman  was  then  sitting  in  a  pensive  and  melancholy 
mood. 

Her  appearance  was  that  of  a  delicate  well-bred  woman.  Her 
condition,  too,  was  one  that,  if  unmarried,  was  sufficient  to  give  cause 
for  the  grief  and  despair  depicted  on  her  countenance.  She  was  soon 
to  become  a  mother  ! 

She  was  dressed  in  a  modest  and  very  pretty  style,  and  seemed  to 
be  about  eighteen. 

The  gentleman,  or  the  stage  actor,  was  dressed  in  a  rich  and  fash- 
ionable style,  with  gold  watch  and  chain. 

"  George !  George !  can  it  be  that  you  have  at  last  come  to  see  me 
before  I  die  ?  O !  I  am  glad  you  have  come ;  I  wanted  to  see  you 
once  more  before  I  leave  the  world !"  said  the  poor  girl,  bursting  into 
a  flood  of  tears. 

"  Fanny  !"  said  he,  "  be  of  good  cheer  and  fear  not.  I  will  never 
desert  you.     In  me  behold  your  friend !" 

"  Can  I  then  believe  in  you  ?  O  !  tell  me  and  it  will  relieve  me !" 
said  Fanny. 

*  As  true  as  there  is  a  God  in  Heaven  !  I  mean  what  I  say.  You 
can  trust  me  to  the  end." 

"  Thanks,  George  !  my  mind  is  easier.  But  had  you  not  come  this 
day,  I  should  have  put  an  end  to  my  sufferings  before  another  sun  had 
arisen. " 

"  I  will  stand  by  you  and  see  that  you  have  every  thing  you  want ; 
that  you  are  properly  provided  for  and  have  suitable  attendants." 
3* 


38  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

Soon  after,  George  departed,  promising  to  return  again  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 

While  this  poor  girl  is  left  alone  reflecting  on  the  contrast  between 
the  innocent  pleasures  of  her  early  years,  and  the  agonizing  suffer- 
ings of  her  present  condition,  we  will  for  a  few  moments  revert  to  her 
history.  I 

She  was  a  native  of  one  of  the  interior  towns  of  this  State,  and  had 
been  brought  up  in  comfortable  circumstances.  Her  father  was  a 
merchant,  but  having  become  involved  in  his  affairs,  his  mind  became 
so  deranged  that  it  had  been  found  necessary  to  take  him  to  a  lunatic 
asylum.  Having  partially  recovered,  he  was  restored  to  his  family, 
but  soon  afterward,  in  a  moment  of  derangement,  he  put  an  end  to  his 
life  by  his  own  hands. 

Soon  after  this  circumstance,  which  threw  the  family  into  sorrow 
and  want,  Fanny  was  visited  by  a  female  cousin  from  the  city,  who 
determined  her  fate. 

The  cousin  painted  in  the  most  glowing  colors  the  charms  and 
pleasures  of  a  city  life,  and  finally  succeeded  in  persuading  Fanny 
that  a  good  deal  of  money  was  to  be  made  by  working  in  artificial 
flowers,  and  that  she  might  thus  live  independent,  dress  in  good  style, 
and  enjoy  the  many  pleasures  a  city  life  affords. 

Influenced  by  these  representations,  she  came  to  the  city  and  pro- 
cured work  in  a  shop  in  William-street  with  her  cousin. 

The  current  of  her  life  here  ran  smoothly  until,  through  the  intro- 
duction of  her  cousin,  she  became  acquainted  with  the  actor,  who  was 
familiarly  called  by  her  George. 

One  day,  while  at  work,  her  cousin  inquiringly  remarked  : 
"  You  have  never  been  to  the  theatre,  have  you,  Fanny  ?" 
"No  ;  and  I  do  not  care  to  go,"  replied  she. 

"  O  !  you  would  be  delighted.  You  had  better  go  with  me  to-night. 
I  am  going  to  have  a  beautiful  gentleman  for  a  beau,  and  we  shall 
have  a  private  box." 

"I  have  never  been  to  a  theatre,  and  I  don't  think  I  should  like  to 
go.     The  theatre  is  not  a  good  place." 

"  That  is  one  of  your  country  notions.  I  never  saw  any  thing  bad 
in  the  theatre.  You  had  better  go  along  to-night.  It  is  the  Bowery, 
and  the  play  is  to  be  the  Wizard  of  the  Wave.  Come,  you  go — we 
are  to  have  a  private  box,  and  we  '11  have  a  nice  time." 

Partly  by  these  representations,  and  partly  impelled  by  curiosity  to 
see  a  theatre  for  the  first  time,  Fanny  was  induced  to  accompany  her 
cousin. 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  39 

The  person  who  attended  them  was  an  attach^  of  the  theatre,  and 
had  often  accompanied  her  thither,  and  generally  provided  them  with 
a  private  box.  \ 

In  this  private  box  George  had  become  acquainted  with,  and  had 
often  visited  this  young  girl,  and  when  the  latter  mentioned  that 
she  had  a  beautiful  cousin  by  the  name  of  Fanny  in  the  city,  it 
had  been  arranged  that  some  evening  she  should  bring  her  to  the 
theatre. 

George,  when  he  had  concluded  his  part  on  the  stage,  was  to  come 
to  the  private  box  and  there  be  introduced  to  Fanny. 

The  plan  succeeded  as  had  been  arranged. 

Fanny  went  to  the  theatre,  became  acquainted  with  George,  and 
often  repeated  her  visits. 

She  soon  became  attached  to  him,  and  under  a  promise  of  marriage, 
was  finally  induced  to  leave  her  shop  and  take  apartments  in  Canal- 
street,  where  she  was  living  when  first  introduced  to  the  reader. 

At  three  o'clock,  George  returned,  and  found  Fanny  on  the  sofa,  in 
tears,  as  usual. 

"  Well,  Fanny,  I  have  returned,  as  you  requested,"  said  he,  on 
entering  the  room. 

"  Yes,  and  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  Among  all  your  vows  and  pro- 
mises, there  is  one  I  have  held  as  sacred  ;  and  when  I  think  of  it,  my 
brain  seems  on  fire  !" 

"  What  is  it  ?" 

"  What  is  it !  You  surely  need  not  ask.  You  know  the  solemn 
vow  you  made — you  know  the  sacred  promise  under  which  I  was 
induced  to  leave  my  employment,  and  take  up  my  abode  with  you  in 
these  apartments !" 

"  I  suppose  I  know  what  you  mean." 

"  Yes,  you  know !  You  have  not  forgotten  your  promise  to  marry 
me!" 

Here  both  parties  sat  for  some  moments  in  silent  meditation,  when 
she  recumed  : 

"  George,  my  mind  borders  on  frenzy,  when  I  think  of  the  home 
in  the  country,  of  the  friends  I  there  had,  and  the  society  I  there 
enjoyed — when  I  think  of  those  happy  days  of  innocence,  and  contrast 
them  with  the  guilt,  the  agony,  the  despair  of  my  present  condition. 
O !  these  agonizing  thoughts  will  drive  me  mad  !" 

"Calm  yourself,  Fanny,"  said  George,  very  coolly.  "I  will  see 
that  you  are  provided  for." 

"  Provided  for !     That  is  nothing  to  the  disgrace  that  will  befall  me, 


40  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

when   my  situation  shall  become  known  to  my  friends,  unless  you 
fulfil  your  vow  to  make  me  your  wife !" 

"  Stay !  stay  your  feelings !  Fanny,  be  not  desponding !  Look  on 
the  bright  side !" 

"  There  is  no  bright  side ;  except  you  marry  me,  my  prospects  are 
blighted  for  ever." 

"I  will  cling  to  you,  and  see  you  through  all  your  troubles." 

"You  can  do  nothing  for  me  unless  you  make  me  your  wife. 
That,  and  that  alone,  will  repair  all  my  wrongs  and  make  me  happy 
once  more." 

"  You  may  pass  through  the  whole  and  your  friends  know  nothing 
of  it." 

"  But  I  shall  know  it !  Yes !  and  my  friends  will  know  it  too.  But 
I  will  never  survive  my  shame.  I  will  blot  out  my  disgrace  with 
blood !" 

"  Calm  yourself,  Fanny.  I  can  arrange  the  whole  matter  so  that 
you  will  be  comfortable." 

"Comfortable  !  what  was  I  when  you  first  knew  me  1  Was  I  not  com- 
fortable then  ?  O  !  when  at  home  in  years  gone  by  I  was  happy  !  I 
had  all  I  could  wish.  I  was  innocent  and  had  what  I  shall  never 
know  again — peace  of  mind.  O  !  my  mother,  how  she  would  feel  if 
she  knew  this !  It  would  drive  her  to  madness,  as  my  father  was 
driven  by  other  woes.  O !  that  I  should  live  to  be  a  curse  to  her !" 
and  with  these  words  the  poor  broken-hearted  girl  fell  to  violent 
weeping. 

At  length  she  resumed  her  calmness,  when  George  interrupted  the 
silence  by  saying : 

"You  must  control  your  feelings,  and  listen  to  some  plan  by 
which  we  may  avoid  exposure,  and  relieve  you  from  your  difficul- 
ties." 

"  There  are  but  two  modes  of  relief — one  is  marriage,  and  the 
other  death !  I  see  the  alternative — nothing  is  left  for  me  but  the 
latter!"  / 

"  Be  not  so  desperate !  There  is  hope  for  you.  You  can  be  relieved 
and  become  happy  again." 

"  Never !  never !  What  hope  is  there  left  for  me  ?  Do  you  intend 
to  keep  your  word,  and  marry  me  ?" 

"  I  know  a  trusty  female  physician,  who  will  do  for  you  all  you  can 
desire." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  said  Fanny,  starting  with  indignant 
surprise. 


THE  INICIUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  41 

"  I  mean  to  place  you  in  the  charge  of  one  who  will  relieve  you 
from  all  your  difficultes." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  infernal  Restell?"  asked  the  girl  with  trembling 
indignation. 

"I  do!"  said  George,  with  unfeeling  firmness. 

"  Good  heavens !  No.  When  I  wish  to  rush  unprepared  and 
rashly  into  the  presence  of  my  Maker,  this  right  hand  has  strength 
and  courage  to  do  the  dreadful  deed.  I  wish  no  infamous  Restell  to 
dispatch  me  through  the  lingering  tortures  of  her  diabolical  art.  I 
have  the  nerve  and  the  heart  to  do  the  deed  at  once." 

"You  are  laboring  under  a  delusion.  I  cannot  reason  with  you," 
replied  George. 

"There  is  no  reason  in  me  'twixt  marriage  and  death.  I  demand 
of  you,  then,  which  is  my  fate!" 

"  I  cannot  talk  with  you  until  you  become  calm." 

"  You  have  left  me  trembling  on  a  thread  over  the  abyss  of  ruin, 
and  now  all  you  can  say  is  to  ask  me  to  be  l  calm  !' "  said  the  girl, 
with  a  scornful  tone,  rising  from  the  sofa  and  walking  up  and  down 
the  room  under  deep  excitement. 

After  a  few  moments  silence,  she  turned  toward  her  betrayer  and 
said  : 

"  Under  a  solemn  vow  of  marriage,  you  led  me  hither,  and  have 
plunged  me  deep  into  misery.  I  demand  of  you  now,  will  you  fulfil 
your  promise  ?" 

"  To-morrow  I  will  call  and  see  you  again." 

"  No  more  evasion ;  I  demand  an  answer  this  instant.     Yes  or  no." 

"  I  cannot  now  answer  you.  I  will  call  again  to-morrow,  and  then 
we  will  settle  the  question." 

"  To-rnorrow  is  in  another  world  !  Thither  I  will  seek  it !  Another 
to-morrow  in  this  world  I  shall  never  know  !"  j 

George  now  abruptly  took  his  departure,  when  Fanny  threw  herself 
on  the  sofa  and  gave  way  to  violent  tears,  which  continued  until  inter- 
rupted by  a  visit  from  her  cousin,  who,  herself  hardened  in  guilt,  had 
seen  little  of  Fanny  since  the  departure  of  the  latter  from  the  work- 
shop. 

Now,  having  heard  of  Fanny's  situation,  she  came  to  visit  her,  and 
being  affected  by  her  sad  condition,  so  far  relented  of  the  part  she  had 
taken  in  the  affair,  as  to  take  an  interest  in  Fanny's  welfare,  and  to 
tnake  to  her  an  important  disclosure. 

She  told  Fanny  that  George  was  a  married  man,  and  that  he  lived 
at  No.  —  Bayard-street. 


42  ASMODEUS,  OR, 

At  this  announcement  Fanny  swooned,  but  soon  recovered. 

"  I  advise  you,"  said  the  cousin,  "  to  go  to  his  house  this  very  night 
and  make  him  do  something  for  you.  You  will  find  him  in  at  seven 
o'clock." 

"I  will  go,"  said  Fanny  calmly,  "but  it  is  little  that  I  shall  want 
him  to  do  for  me ;  what  I  want  done  I  can  do  for  myself." 

"If  you  will  go  I  will  accompany  you." 

"  Thanks  to  you,  I  will  go  alone,  or  you  may  go  with  me  to  the 
door,  but  alone  I  will  enter." 

With  a  sadness  too  deep  for  tears,  and  with  a  despair  beyond  the 
power  of  utterance,  Fanny  carefully  arranged  her  toilet,  wrote  a  short 
letter  to  her  mother,  and  telling  her  cousin  to  take  charge  of  her  things 
if  she  should  not  return,  took  her  departure  for  Bayard-street. 

She  entered  the  house  alone,  saw  the  wife  of  him  she  had  called 
George,  and  was  satisfied  of  the  reality  of  the  deception  that  had  been 
practiced  on  her. 

She  then  turned  aside  and  took  a  deep  dose  of  poison  she  had  previ- 
ously procured  for  the  purpose,  and  fell  on  the  sofa  in  a  spasmodic 
burst  of  tears. 

When  George  came  in,  she  rose  and  cursed  him  with  the  frenzy 
of  a  fiend.  She  was  already  a  maniac.  As  she  was  storming  with 
rage  at  her  betrayer,  an  irruption  of  blood  burst  from  her  mouth,  and 
she  fell  back  a  corpse. 

A  coroner's  inquest,  and  an  exposure  in  the  newspapers,  was  the 
finale  of  this  sad  tragedy. 


CHAPTER    V  I 


MOSE    IN    A   MUSS. 


"  Hurra,  b'hoys  ! — look  ahead  !  Now  for  a  muss  !  Sam,  and  all 
the  rest  o'  yon,  be  on  hand.  Don't  you  see  that  'ere  short-masted 
craft  dere — de  sloop  a-coming  into  that  dock — there  by  Peck  Slip  V 
said  the  genuine  and  original  Mose,  to  a  small  band  of  his  comrades 
off  duty  and  ready  for  anything. 

"  Veil,  Mose,  I  does  see  it — but  vot  ov  it  ?  Is  there  any  chance  for 
some  lamming  to  be  done  ?"  said  Sam,  who  was  a  sort  of  lieutenant 
colonel  or  adjutant  general  acting  under  Mose. 

"Nothing  shorter,  d — n  your  eyes !  Don't  you  all  see  there's  a 
chance  for  the  benefit  of  Kipp  and  Brown — a  roaring  speculation  for 
all  of  us?" 

"  D — n  me  now,  if  I  can  see  far  enough  to  see  through  your  specu- 
lation out  of  that  craft.  How  is  it  wid  you,  Charley  ?  Does  you 
see  it  wid  de  guzzling  eye-glass  ?"  asked  Sam,  with  a  triumphant 
chuckle. 

"  No,"  muttered  Charley,  with  a  shake  of  the  head. 

"  Don't  you  see  that  'ere  tall,  lean,  long-shanked,  sober-looking 
chap,  with  a  light  green  cap  on  his  phrenology- box  ?  He  's  standing 
by  the  anchor." 

"  Veil,  Mose,  I  does  see  a  chap  yonder,  side  of  dat  blubberly  long- 
head nigger.  He  's  that  feller  wid  his  hands  in  his  short  breeches 
pocket,"  said  Sam,  with  a  grin. 

"  B'hoys,  he's  the  chap  for  the  benefit !  See  him  now  he's  ashore," 
said  Mose,  with  a  shout  of  triumph. 

"  Now  for  the  speculation  !     What  is  it  ?" 

"  Well,  I  '11  tell  yer,  b'hoys,"  said  Mose,  with  his  finger  to  his 
nose ;  "  if  yer'll  back  me  up  well,  I'll  agree  to  have  a  V  out  of  his 
pocket  in  double  quick  time,  If  I  don't,  then  never  call  me  Mose 
agin." 

f 


44  *  ASMODEUS ;  OR, 

"  Well,  I  'm  ready  to  raise  the  wind,  Mose.  You  're  a  good  lead — 
you  open  rich,  so  d — n  me  if  I  doesn't  go  into  it  for  the  spoils,"  said 
Sam,  giving  Mose  a  strong  slap  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Here's  what  opens  rich  as  a  box  of  dry  goods,"  responded  Charley, 
as  he  clapped  his  hands  together  and  strode  off  several  paces. 

"  Now,  croneys,  hear  to  me.  You  see  that  green  'un,  six 
feet  in  his  shoes,  squaring  off  for  those  lobsters  in  that  old  woman's 
stand  ?  Say  nothing  now.  I'm  into  him  about  a  half  of  ten  feet," 
said  Mose,  with  a  shout. 

"  Half  of  ten  dollars  you  mean,  instead  of  half  of  ten  feet.  I  'm 
right,  ain't  I  ?"  asked  Sam,  with  a  knowing  wink. 

"  I  '11  gub  up  that — you  're  right,"  answered  Mose. 

"  Don't  forget  that  you  must  trust  old  Divine  Providence  of  yours," 
said  Charley. 

"  Here  then,  b'hoys,  I  goes  in  as  a  swift  witness — if  Divine  Pro- 
vidence permits.  I  always  gets  my  share — so  here's  what's  ready," 
ejaculated  Sam,  with  a  chuckling  tone  of  joy. 

By  this  time  the  sloop  had  made  fast  to  the  dock,  and  the  Yankee, 
leaping  from  the  deck,  had  hastily  run  up  to  an  old  woman's  stand, 
and  fallen  to  devouring  the  lobsters  and  other  eatables  with  a  keen 
appetite. 

"  Now,  Sam,  let  the  feller  get  through  eating,  and  return  to  his 
sloop,  and  then,  Sam,  I  '11  take  you  with  me,  and  we'll  board  her 
without  ceremony  ;  and  Charley,  you'll  stay  here  till  I  send  for  you," 
said  Mose,  with  the  air  and  tone  of  a  general  commander. 

Reaching  the  sloop,  they  found  the  Yankee,  who  had  returned  from 
the  stand,  near  the  mast,  down  upon  his  knees,  greedily  devouring 
some  raw  clams,  which  he  had  just  procured  on  shore. 

"  My  God  !  can  it  be  ?  My  friend,  stop  eating  ! — you  are  in  a  h — 11 
of  a  stew ! — in  a  most  dangerous  pickle !"  exclaimed  Mose,  in  a  tone 
of  alarm. 

"Pickle!  about  what?  and  who  are  you?"  asked  the  Yankee,  as 
he  continued  eating. 

"  Stop  !  hold !  and  save  yourself  from  destruction  f  Hold,  or  you're 
a,  gone  coon  !" 

"  You  don't  think  I  was  brought  up  in  the  woods  to  be  scared  by 
the  owls,  du  you  ?"  drawled  the  Yankee,  with  apparent  unconcern,  as 
he  continued  his  eating. 

"  Let  him  alone — let  him  die  in  his  own  way  f  He  seems  to  be  a 
nice  piece  of  dry  goods,  but  it's  a  pity  he  should  spile  just  now,"  said 
Sam. 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  PfEW  YORK.  45 

11  What  du  you  mean  now  ?  Du  just  tell !"  said  the  Yankee, 
beginning  to  feel  some  alarm,  and  wiping  bis  greasy  chops  on  his 
sleeve. 

"  Ah,"  said  Sam,  shaking  his  head,  with  a  long  sigh ;  "  ah,  I'ni 
sorry  for  you,  but  you're  a  dying  man— that's  a  faet !" 

"  He  ain't  nothing  else,"  said  Mose. 

"  But  why  ? — -what  du  you  mean? — me  a  dying  man!  Why? 
Du  tell  now!"  exclaimed  the  Yankee,  getting  mare  alarmed,  as  he 
sprung  to  his  feet. 

"  Feel  of  his  pulse,  Sam,  right  off  quick  !"  muttered  Mose,  when 
Sam  instantly  obeyed,  while  the  Yankee  stood  trembling,  white  as  a 
ghost. 

"  Ah,  it's  a  hard  case  !"  said  Sam,  in  a  low,  solemn  tone,  and  still 
holding  on  to  the  pulse. 

11  What  is  the  matter  now  ? — du  tell !"  exclaimed  the  Yankee,  now 
almost  frightened  out  of  his  wits. 

"  Do  you  know  you've  been  eatin'  pisen  clams  ?"  asked  Mose. 

"Pisen  clams!  O,  Lord  !  send  for  a  doctor!  Must  I  die  !— can't 
you  save  me  ?  O,  am  I  lost  ?  Pisen  clams  !  O,  I  am  gone  !— can't 
you  save  me  ?"  uttered  the  Yankee,  pacing  up  and  down  the  deck  in 
a  paroxysm  of  terror. 

"  Confess  your  sins,"  said  Mose,  "and  die  like  a  decent  man." 

"  O,  must  1  die  !  I  have  wronged  no  one — I  hain't  injured  any  man. 
I  never  stole  any  thing,  except  water-melons — and  I  did  steal  a  sheep 
once,  but  nobody  ever  knew  it !  O,  dear,  shall  I  die  !"  exclaimed 
the  Yankee,  so  overcome  with  fear  as  unconsciously  to  turn  the  scene 
into  a  farce. 

"  Let's  lam  him — he's  a  sheep-stealer  !"  said  Mose,  laying  his  hand 
roughly  on  the  Yankee's  forehead. 

"  Lam  him  !"  echoed  Sam.  "  He'd  steal  the  pennies  from  a  dead 
man's  eyes !" 

"O,  I'm  faint! — I  feel  that  I  am  going! — I'm  dying !— send  for  a 
doctor  !"  continually  exclaimed  the  poor  panic-stricken  Yankee. 

"  Shall  I  send  for  a  doctor  ?"  asked  Mose,  with  an  affectation  of 
pity. 

11  Yes,  send  ;  for  I  shall  die  if  you  don't,  of  this  pisen  clam  in  my 
stomach  !     O,  it  is  eating  me  up  alive  ! — send  for  the  doctor  !" 

Sam  was  instantly  dispatched  for  a  doctor,  while  Mose  undertook 
to  comfort  the  Yankee. 

"  Why  don't  the  doctor  come ! — I  feel  faint ! — O,  my  stomach  is  on 
fire  ! — I  am  pisened  !" 
3 


46  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

**  Sam  won't  spare  shoe-leather  in  going  up  there.  I'm  sure  the 
doctor  will  soon  be  here." 

Soon  Sam  came  blustering  along,  and  bringing  with  him  Charley, 
who  was  to  enact  the  character  of  the  doctor. 

"  Hoo !  where's  the  patient  ?"  asked  Charley,  blowing  and  puffing 
as  though  he  was  almost  out  of  breath. 

"  Here  he  is.  This  way,  doctor — this  way,  doctor — he's  most 
gone  !"  said  Mose,  giving  Charley  a  sly  wink  of  the  eye. 

"  Stand  back,  gentlemen,  and  give  the  patient  a  chance  to  breathe, 
while  I  examine  into  the  case,"  said  Charley,  with  a  high  tone  of 
authority. 

"  Stand  back  !"  said  Mose,  pushing  back  the  small  group  of  persons 
that  had  gathered  about  the  scene. 

"  My  friend,  what's  the  matter?"  inquired  Charley,  in  an  anxious  tone. 

"  O,  I'm  dying ! — I'm  pisened  !  Doctor,  shall  I  die  ?"  was  the 
reply  of  the  poor  frightened  Yankee,  who  was  sitting  on  the  deck  with 
his  hands  across  his  stomach,  and  actually  suffering  real  pain,  as  was 
natural  after  having  over-eaten  of  lobsters  and  clams. 

"  Doctor,  what  do  you  think  of  his  case  ?"  asked  Mose,  in  a  doleful 
tone. 

Charley,  feeling  the  pulse  of  the  Yankee,  shook  his  head,  but  made 
no  other  reply. 

"  Give  us  the  verdict,  any  how  !"  exclaimed  Mose,  impatiently. 

"  It's  a  doubtful  case,"  said  Charley,  in  a  very  solemn  tone. 

"  Then  is  it  fixed,  doctor,  that  1  can  get  well  ?  Can't  you  save  me, 
doctor  ?" 

"  I'll  try ;  but  you  must  keep  quiet,  and  do  as  I  tell  you." 

"  Well,  I  will,  doctor,"  said  the  Yankee,  submissively. 

*  Bring  me  quick  some  warm  water,"  called  Charley. 

The  warm  water  was  instantly  brought,  and  its  emetic  effects  soon 
relieved  the  trembling  Yankee  of  the  contents  of  his  overloaded 
stomach,  and  removed  the  pain  he  had  experienced. 

"  How  do  you  feel  now  V  asked  Charley,  after  the  water  had  pro- 
duced its  full  effect  and  the  Yankee  seemed  entirely  relieved  from  his 
pain. 

"  I  feel  first  rate,  doctor.  Ain't  I  cured  ?  I  guess  all  that  tarnation 
pisen  is  gone — ain't  it,  doctor  V' 

"  Yes,  you  are  entirely  cured  ;  all  the  pisen  is  out  of  you.  But  if 
I  hadn't  come,  you'd  a  been  cold  afore  this  time." 

"  So  I  should,  doctor.  I  guess  you've  saved  me  !  Well,  what's  to 
pay  for  this  job  ?     I  'spose  you'll  want  a  five  ?" 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  47 

M  Your  life's  worth  more  than  that.  I  can't  save  a  man  in  such  a 
case  for  less  than  ten." 

"  Well,  here's  your  cash." 

"  And  now  you  must  pay  me  and  Sam  who  went  for  the  doctor." 
interposed  Mose. 

This  the  Yankee  paid  also,  when  Mose  and  his  companions  moved 
off,  and  wended  their  way  to  a  grog-shop  in  Roosevelt-street,  where 
they  divided  the  spoils.  Mose  taking  ten  dollars,  and  giving  the  five 
to  be  divided  between  his  followers  and  dependents,  Sam  and 
Charley. 


CHAPTER    VII 


THE    OLD  BREWERY. 


In  the  heart  of  that  centre  of  all  that  is  degraded,  infamous  and 
wretched — The  Five  Points— stands  the  "  Old  Brewery,"  whose  name 
indicates  the  use  to  which  it  was  formerly  applied.  It  is  now  an  old 
and  rotten  structure,  into  which  are  crowded  about  a  hundred  of  the 
most  miserable  an/i  wretched  creatures. 

This  building  is  entered  by  a  narrow  avenue,  known  as  "  Murder- 
er's Alley,"  and  stands  on  a  sunken  spot,  surrounded  on  every  side 
by  shabby  and  dilapidated  tenements,  to  which  the  pure  air  of  heaven 
seldom  or  never  rinds  its  way.  The  little  open  space  about  the  build- 
ing, and  the  narrow  alley  leading  to  it,  are  filthy  in  the  extreme,  while 
the  noxious  effluvia  naturally  arising  from  the  place,  is  sufficient 
to  render  it  remarkable  that  human  beings  can  exist  for  any  con- 
siderable length  of  time  within  reach  of  such  health-destroying 
influences. 

Under  the  guide  and  protection  of  a  police  officer,  we  entered  this 
abode  of  misery. 

The  first  group  we  met  was  that  of  a  mother  and  three  children,  a 
boy  and  two  girls.  The  mother,  half  covered  with  filthy  rags,  bowed 
as  we  approached,  while  the  starving  and  emaciated  young  ones  looked 
up  with  a  sorrowful  appeal  that  must  have  melted  a  heart  of  ioe. 
Tears  the  mother  and  her  children  would  have  wept,  at  the  sight  of 
any  one  seemingly  capable  of  affording  them  aid,  had  not  their  eyes 
been  wept  dry. 

"  Mother,  have  they  brought  us  something  to  eat  V  asked  one  of 
the  little  girls  in  piteous  tones,  as  she  threw  her  feeble  and  uncleansed 
arms  around  her  mother's  neck.  ^ 

"My  child,  I  do  not  know,"  answered  the  despairing  mother. 


THE  INiaUlTlES  OF  NEW  YORK.  49 

"My  dear  woman/'  said  the  friend  who  accompanied  me,  "what 
brought  you  to  this  distressed  condition?" 

"  It  would  be  a  long  and  sad  story  to  tell,"  she  replied  sorrow- 
fully. 

•  How  do  you  live  here  ?    what  do  you  have  for  food  ?" 

•  We  have  had  no  food  for  two  days,  except  what  we  have  gnawed 
from  those  old  bones  in  the  corner  yonder," 

"  How  long  have  you  been  in  this  place  ?'.' 

"Since  February  Jast — some  three  months." 

"Have  you  no  friends  ?" 

"  I  had  a  husband,  and  a  brother  and  a  sister ;  but  they  are  all  dead 
now." 

"  Then  you  have  had  no  food  these  two  days  except  those 
bones?" 

"No  ;  and  the  children,  poor  creatures,  gnaw  them  all  the  time,  as 
they  are  most  starved  and  have  nothing  else  to  eat." 

"One  of  them  is  chewing  something  now — what  is  it?" 

'•It  is  shoe-leather.  They  want  something  in  their  mouths  to 
chew." 

The  scene  having  become  now  too  painful  any  longer  to  endure,  we 
brought  forward  the  basket  of  cold  victuals — consisting  chiefly  of  meat 
and  bread — which  we  had  brought  for  the  occasion. 

On  seeing  this,  the  children  sprang  forward  with  greedy  looks,  when 
the  mother  seemed  overcome,  and  would  have  wept  had  she  any  tears 
to  weep. 

Before  their  immediate  wants  were  gratified,  we  were  surrounded 
at  the  door  by  a  group  of  famishing  mortals,  old  men  and  women  and 
children,  begging  for  a  morsel  of  food. 

The  room  we  first  entered  was  a  small  damp  apartment  on  the  first 
floor,  and  occupied  solely  by  this  widow  and  her  three  children.  The 
floor  was  covered  with  a  thick  damp  coating  of  earth  or  filth,  and  the 
walls  were  besmeared  with  almost  every  thing  repulsive,  while  the 
nauseous  vapors  and  stench  of  the  confined  and  poisonous  atmosphere 
would  seem  sufficient  to  destroy  the  vigor  and  health  of  the  most  active 
and  robust  frames. 

And  such  is  a  fair  picture  of  the  apartments  throughout  this  noisome 
into  which  are  crowded  so  many  wretched  and  half  famished 
sufferers. 

While  our  companion  was  distributing  food  to  the  crowd  about  the 
door,  we  gave  a  few  moments  more  attention  to  the  poor  woman  who 
had  first  attracted  our  attention. 


50  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

She  stated  that  she  had  been  in  good  circumstances,  but  her  hus- 
band, through  intemperance,  had  brought  his  family  to  want,  and  him- 
self to  an  untimely  grave,  leaving  her  and  three  helpless  children 
without  any  means  of  support.  She  had  procured  work  and  kept  from 
starvation,  until  now  her  health  was  broken,  and  she  had  been  obliged 
to  take  an  apartment  in  this  old  den  of  misery,  as  she  could  here  pay 
her  rent  for  a  week  or  a  few  days  only  in  advance,  and  it  had  taken 
all  the  money  she  could  obtain  to  pay  her  rent,  small  as  it  was,  being 
but  fifty  cents  a  week. 

The  appearance  of  the  woman  confirmed  her  statement,  for  she 
seemed  to  have  had  a  good  education. 

"I  care  not  for  myself,"  she  said,  "it  is  for  my  children  that  I 
feel.  I  know  that  I  am  broken  down,  and  it  matters  not  now  how 
soon  I  am  consigned  to  the  grave.  I  was  well  brought  up,  and  I 
feel  it  now  the  more  bitterly,  to  see  my  children  thus  reared  in 
ignorance  and  degradation.  They  are  bright  children,  and  if  they 
could  only  have  good  homes  and  education,  I  would  be  willing  to 
leave  this  world,  where  nothing  is  left  for  me  but  suffering  and 
sorrow." 

"But  have  you  no  friends  to  look  after  you  ?"  inquired  we. 
"  When  did  you  ever  know  the  wretched  to  have  any  friends?     I 
have  had  those  whom  the  world  calls  friends,  and   they  are  now  well 
off;  but  I  would  not  have  them  know  my  situation." 
"  Your  health  is  poor — is  it  not  ?" 

11 1  am  not  able  to  go  out  to  obtain  work,  nor  could  I  do  anything  if 
I  had  work  to  do.  The  last  money  I  had  was  obtained  by  pawning 
the  last  piece  of  clothing  I  had  left,  and  I  am  too  proud  to  beg  or  to  go 
to  the  alms-house." 

We  promised  to  call  and  see  her  again,  and  afterward  had  the  sat- 
isfaction of  obtaining  relief  for  her  wants,  through  the  Association  for 
the  Relief  of  the  Destitute,  by  which,  and  also  by  the  aid  of  some  of 
her  former  friends,  whose  attention  we  had  called  to  her  condition,  she 
was  removed  to  a  comfortable  dwelling,  and  her  children  placed  in 
situations  where  they  earned  their  own  living. 

We  entered  next  a  larger  room,  occupied  by  several  families.  We 
first  saw  an  old  man  sitting  on  a  stool,  rubbing  his  hands,  his  chin  in 
active  motion,  and  his  emaciated  form  trembling  like  the  last  leaf  in 
autumn. 

At  the  sight  of  us,  he  lifted  himself  with  difficulty  on  his  bare  feet, 
and  half*  covered  with  rags,  came  forward  with  a  blessing,  and  with 
tears  in  his  eyes,  begged  for  food. 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  '  5 1 

At  the  same  instant,  the  glaring  eyes,  the  sunken  features,  and 
wan,  starving  countenances  of  women  and  children,  gathered  around 
our  basket,  crying  most  piteously  for  something  to  eat.  Not  one  but 
was  clad  in  rags,  and  seemed  the  very  personification  of  wretchedness 
and  misery. 

We  distributed  a  small  quantity  of  food  among  them  and  went  on 
;iur  way,  but  several  followed  us,  crying  for  more,  which  we  were 
compelled  to  refuse,  in  order  to  save  something  if  possible  for  all  of  the 
more  needy  whom  we  might  meet. 

Another  old  man  we  found,  who  was  but  a  mere  skeleton.  We 
gave  him  some  bread,  which  he  swallowed  with  great  greediness,  and 
then  thanked  us  with  a  smile,  saying  he  had  not  had  a  morsel  of  food 
for  nearly  two  days. 

In  one  of  the  rooms  sat  a  poor  woman  clothed  in  filthy  rags,  who 
was  unable  to  walk.     We  found  her  weeping. 

"  Why  do  you  weep  ?"  asked  my  friend.     "  Are  you  ill  V 

"  Look  yonder  !"  said  she.  "  There  is  my  daughter,  and  you  will 
not  wonder  why  I  weep !" 

We  looked  as  she  pointed  with  her  finger,  and  we  beheld, 
partly  concealed  behind  an  old  barrel  in  the  hall,  a  young  girl,  of 
not  more  than  twenty,  apparently  in  a  frenzied  state,-  lying  on 
the  floor,  and  sucking  the  blood  from  her  own  arm,  which  she  had 
bitten. 

"  Stop,  my  child  !"  said  we,  "  why  do  you  suck  the  blood  from  your 
own  arm  ?" 

"  There  is  no  other  food  for  me  !"  cried  she,  in  the  most  frantic 
agony. 

"  Here  is  food  for  you,"  said  we,  offering  her  bread  and  meat, 
which  she  devoured  most  ravenously.  She  thanked  us,  and  then  we 
went  on. 

Such  are  the  scenes  which  are  to  be  met  with  daily  in  the  "  Old 
Brewery.7' 

Yet,  is  it  not  strange  that  in  a  city  abounding  in  wealth — where 
thousands  live  in  luxuries  they  do  not  want  and  cannot  enjoy,  and 
are  puzzled  to  devise  means  to  get  rid  of  their  money,  that  such 
misery  and  wretchedness  should  be  suffered  to  exist ? 

Instead  of  throwing  away  hundreds  on  some  useless  toy  not  cared 
for,  or  some  pernicious  indulgence,  why  is  it  that  the  rich  will  not 
'  spare  a  few  dollars  to  relieve  the  sufferings  of  the  destitute  and  the 
dying?" 

This  is  the  great  question  society  has  been  asking  for  the  past 
4 


52  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

five  thousand  years,  and  it  now  seems  as  far  off  from  a  solution  as 
ever. 

It  is,  nevertheless,  a  melancholy  fact,  that  man  cares  not  for  his 
brother  man,  and  the  contrast  in  the  condition  of  the  rich  and  the  poor 
in  our  large  cities  exhibits  the  selfishness  and  depravity  of  the  human 
heart,  in  a  light  that  is  melancholy  and  lamentable  to  behold. 


/ 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

A    WIFE  WITH   TWO  HUSBANDS  j    OR,    THE    ADVENTURES    OF    A    BEAUTIFUL 

WOMAN. 

"By  heavens!    what   a    beautiful    creature!"  exclaimed    Charles 

C p,  a  clerk  with  Charles  O'Conner,  as  a  young  and   beautiful 

woman  left  the  office,  after  having  been  in  consultation  with  the  dis- 
tinguished bachelor  counsellor. 

"O  !  she's  angelic!  she's  divine  !"  replied  George,  a  fellow  clerk. 
"  I  wonder  who  she  is.  Egad,  if  she  couldn't  melt  O'Conner's  stoical 
indifference,  it  must  be  something  colder  than  ice !" 

"  She  had  such  a  sweet  countenance — such  an  intelligent  expres- 
sion !  She  is  indeed  divine  !  George,  I'm  in  love  with  that  woman. 
I  will,  I  must  have  her.     Ask  O'Conner  who  she  is,  won't  you  ?" 

"No;  I'll  leave  that  to  you.  Perhaps  he  might  tell  me  to  mind  my 
business." 

"  Egad,  I'll  find  out !"  exclaimed  Charles,  jumping  from  his  chair 
in  great  excitement. 

The  mystery,  was,  however,  soon  explained,  when  papers  were 
handed  to  the  clerks  to  copy,  touching  the  application  for  divorce  in 
the  case  of  Mary  C k  vs.  James  C k. 

"  Ho !  ho  !  Charley  !  Here  the  mystery  is  solved  !  This  beautiful 
creature  is  a  married  woman,"  said  George. 

"  A  married  woman  ?     It  can't  be  !" 

"  Yes,  she's  married  ;  but  never  mind  that,  here's  her  affidavit  for 
a  divorce,  and  it  reads  rich." 

"  A  divorce  ?  She  shall  have  it,  and  that's  not  all,  I'll  help  her  to 
another  husband  instanter.     Has  she  any  children  ?" 

"One  little  girl." 

•  It  does  not  seem  possible ;  I  should  not  take  her  to  be  over  sixteen 
or  seventeen." 
4* 


54  ASM0DEU3,   OR, 

The  truth  was,  Mrs.  C k  was  scarcely  eighteen,  though  she  had 

been  married  more  than  two  years. 

She  was  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy  butcher,  residing  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  Bowery.  While  a  school  girl,  she  had  attracted  the 
attention  of  a  dashing  looking  young  man,  with  whom  she  had  fallen 
in  love. 

Of  his  situation  she  and  her  parenN  knew  but  little,  though  her 
father  had  become  satisfied  he  was  a  gambler.  He  claimed  to  be  in 
possession  of  a  considerable  fortune,  and  he  found  little  difficulty  in 
persuading  the  young  lady  to  believe  whatever  he  might  desire. 

The  result  of  the  affair  was  this  :  he  was  forbidden  to  enter  the 
house — the  young  lady  protested  and  was  imprisoned  in  her  chamber. 
Nevertheless  she  found  means  of  communicating  with  her  lover,  and  he 
contrived  means  for  her  escape. 

A  ladder  was  provided.  At  midnight  she  opens  her  window, 
descends  the  ladder  ;  a  carriage  is  waiting  ;  she  enters,  and  in  the  arms 
of  a  lover  is  borne  to  the  house  of  a  friend,  where  they  are  married. 

Afterward  a  reconciliation  with  her  parents  is  effected,  and  she 
returns  home  with  her  husband  to  reside. 

The  illusion  did  not  last  long.  Soon  she  discovered  that  her  hus- 
band was  a  professional  gambler,  and  that  instead  of  a  fortune,  he  had 
only  the  uncertain  returns  of  the  gaming,  house  to  depend  on.  Hence 
he  was  sometimes  profuse  and  prodigal,  and  at  other  times  entirely 
destitute. 

After  the  lapse  of  more  than  two    years,  Mrs.    C k   applied, 

through  Mr.  O'Conner,  for  a  divorce,  which,  after  a  short  delay,  she 
obtained  without  opposition. 

During  the  proceedings  in  this  case,  Charles  C p,  one  of  Mr. 

O'Conner's  clerks,  became  desperately  enamored  of  the  fair  applicant, 
and  before  unloosing  herself  from  the  first  tie,  she  had  already  con- 
sented to  bind  herself  by  a  second  one. 

Mrs.  C k  was  a  woman  of  rare  beauty.     Tall  and  graceful  in 

her  form,  she  would  have  formed  a  perfect  model  for  an  artist.  But 
her  chief  attraction  lay  in  her  countenance.  Her  face  was  symmetri- 
cally beautiful,  and  cast  in  the  expression  of  the  most  divine  loveliness. 
She  was  a  woman  that  would  cause  a  stranger,  in  her  presence,  invol- 
untarily to  pause  and  admire — even  to  love  her — for  the  sweetness  and 
loveliness  of  her  disposition,  as  expressed  through  a  countenance  of 
unsurpassed  beauty,  was  perfectly  captivating. 

Mr.  C p  had  then  fallen  in  love  with  her  at  first  sight,  and  was 

resolved  she  should  become  his  own. 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  57 

Beiriff  of  an  agreeable  person,  with  a  fluent  and  ready  wit,  he  found 
1:0  difficulty  in  obtaining  entrance  to  the  temple  of  her  affections,  where 
he  paid  the  most  devout  worship. 

Having  been  unfortunate  in  her  first  marriage,  she  had  repined  over 
her  miserable  condition,  and  had  sighed  to  partake  of  the  domestic 
bliss  which  her  more  fortunate  acquaintances  seemed  to  enjoy. 

When,  therefore,  Mr.  C ppaid  his  addresses  to  her,  she  thought 

now  an  opportunity  was  afforded  her  of  entering  anew  the  marriage 
state,  and  enjoying  those  blessings  of  peace  and  love  which  she  had 
so  long  sighed  after  in  vain. 

Mrs.  C k,  as  was  stated,  obtained  her  divorce  ;  but  she  was  com- 
pelled to  give  up  her  only  child,  a  beautiful  girl.  The  sacrifice  was 
great,  but  she  thought  amid  new  ties  and  new  scenes,  she  should  be- 
come reconciled  to  the  absence  of  her  daughter,  and,  if  not  forgetting 
her,  at  least  cease  to  dwell  upon  her  with  regret. 

In  a  few  short  months,  Mrs.  C k  had  become  Mrs.  C p,  and 

was  settled  with  her  husband  in  his  native  village  in  the  interior  of 
the  State. 

There  her  time  for  a  short  period  passed  pleasantly  away,  but  soon 
she  found  that  living  the  life  of  a  village  lawyer's  wife  would  not  satisfy 
her. 

She  had  spirit  and  ambition  that  could  find  no  sphere  for  action  in 
the  circle  in  which  she  moved.  Gay  and  fond  of  society,  she  now 
pined  under  the  monotony  of  a  sedate  country  life,  and  longed  for  the 
exciting  scenes  of  city  life,  of  which  she  had  in  the  years  of  her  girl- 
hood  tasted  sufficiently  to  acquire  a  fondness  for,  and  from  which  sho 
had  been  cut  off  before  her  desires  had  been  subdued  to  moderation,  by 
i  reasonable  and  proper  indulgence  in  the  amusements  of  societ)r. 

She  therefore  felt  like  a  young  girl,  snatched  prematurely  from  a 
scene  of  pleasure,  and  though  still  in  sight  of  the  object  of  her  desire, 
yet  withheld  from  all  participation  therein. 

No  wonder,  then,  that  the   youthful   Mrs.  C p  sighed  in  secret 

for  scenes  she  felt  she  was  destined  never  to  behold.  Still,  like  a 
good  wife,  she  strove  to  hide  her  feelings  and  wear  a  cheerful  cofcjn- 
lenance  on  all  occasions. 

Her  beauty,  her  youth,  her  wit,  her  keen  susceptibilities  for  social 
enjoyments — all  these  she  beheld  withering  in  the  desert  sun  of  her 
isolation,  and  not  a  sympathising  breeze  passed  by  to  receive  the  per- 
luiiie  of  her  gentle  but  unuttered  repinings. 

It  would  have  been  some  relief  to  her  desolate  heart,  had  there  been 
young  buds  of  promise  shooting  from  the  parent  stem.     But  to  her 


58  ASMODEUS;  OR, 

the  rich  gift  of  children  was  now  denied,  and  the  more  her  thoughts 
wandered  back  to  the  darling  child  she  had  left  behind  and  given  up 
as  she  believed  for  ever,  the  more  the  love  of  her  absent  child 
became  the  absorbing  passion  of  her  soul. 

After  having  lived  this  quiet  life  for  four  years,  she  at  length,  after 
much  persuasion,  obtained  the  consent  of  her  husband  to  visit  her 
friends  in  New  York. 

A  mother  she  had  not  had  since  a  child,  but  her  father  was  still 
living,  and  married  a  second  time.  Brothers  she  had  in  the  city,  to 
whom  she  was  tenderly  attached,  and  there  dwelt  her  twin  sister — her 
other  self,  whom  she  loved  as  she  loved  her  own  soul.  But,  above  all, 
there,  too,  was  her  child,  whom  she  had  not  now  seen  for  four  years, 
and  whom  she  felt  that  she  now  loved  more  than  she  loved  her  own  life. 
The  preparation  is  made — the  journey  undertaken  ;  she  is  with  her 
husband  once  more  in  her  father's  house.  Her  child — where  was 
that  ?  It  was  at  a  boarding-school  in  Bond, street,  under  the  protection 
of  its  father,  and  was  now  a  beautiful  young  girl  about  six  years  old. 
Hither  she  ran  the  first  day  without  the  knowledge  of  her  husband, 
obtained  admittance,  and  beheld  once  more  the  object  of  her  tenderest 
love.  Almost  frenzied  with  excitement,  she  strained  her  daughter  to 
her  bosom,  and  parted  from  her  again  with  tears,  as  though  her  heart 
would  break. 

Daily  she  was  permitted  to  visit  the  child,  but  while  at  her  father's 
house  she  was  in  a  melancholy  mood,  and  most  of  the  time  wandering 
alone  in  the  garden. 

One  day,  when  visiting  her  child,  she  was  struck  by  surprise  at 
the  entrance  of  her  former  husband,  the  father  of  her  daughter — Mr. 

C k. 

"  I  am  most  glad  to  see  you  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  You  are  the  only 
woman  I  ever  did  or  ever  shall  love  !" 

"  This,  sir,  is  strange.  What  means  it  ?  I  was  told  that  no  one,  and 
especially  you,  should  intrude  on  me  in  these  visits  to  my  child," 
said  the  woman,  indignantly. 

i"  Pardon  me.  I  did  not  wish  to  intrude  on  these  your  sacred  inter- 
views with  our  child  ;  but  the  memory  of  the  happy  days  I  have 
known  in  your  society,  and  the  love  that  still  clings  to  my  heart,  have 
impelled  me  to  break  in  upon  this  scene,  and,  even  at  the  risk  of  in- 
curring your  anger,  to  speak  once  more  to  the  only  woman  1  ever 
loved." 

"  You  know  my  situation  and  the  impropriety  of  this  proceeding. 
You  or  I  must  immediately  depart." 


TilE  INlftUiTHSS  OF  NEW  YOUtv.  59 

11  Bo  not  so  rash.  You  respected  and  reciprocated  my  passion  in 
former  days — why  so  rudely  rebuff  it  now  ?" 

''You  know  my  altered  situation,  and  what,  my  present  position 
requires." 

"  Love  knows  no  law  but  its  own  will,  and  it  will  have  its  way." 

"  Sir,  I  must  leave  !"  And  with  these  words,  she  started  to  leave 
the  room,  when  he  interrupted  her,  by  saying : 

M  Do  you  want  your  child  ?" 

"  My  child  ?     It  is  all  I  want !" 

"  You  can  have  her." 

"  O,  my  child  !  my  child  !"  she  exclaimed,  embracing  her  daughter 
with  tears  of  joy. 

"  But  there  is  one  condition  on  which  alone  you  can  ever  possess 
her  again." 

"  What  is  the  condition — name  it  ?" 

"  You  must  do  justice  to  me  !" 

"Justice  to  you  !     When  did  I  ever  do  you  injustice  V 

*  You  separated  from  me — abandoned  me  for  another  !" 

M  I  was  divided  from  you  according  to  law,  and  was  afterward  mar- 
ried to  a  man  whom  I  never  saw  until  after  I  had  applied  for  my  bill. 
Do  you  call  this  abandoning  you  for  another  ?  Did  I  not  have  cause 
for  the  course  I  pursued  ?" 

"  I  will  not  speak  of  that  now.  You  did  not  hear  what  I  had  to  say 
in  my  own  defense.  But  you  were  instigated  to  the  course  you  pur- 
sued by  your  friends." 

"  Consider  I  had  cause.  Your  unfaithfulness  and  the  profession 
you  pursued — were  they  not  a  sufficient  cause  ?" 

••  We'll  not  speak  of  that  now.  Had  you  heard  me  at  the  time,  I 
could  have  explained  every  thing  to  your  satisfaction." 

M  If  I  've  wronged  you,  it's  too  late  now  to  repair  that  wrong." 
"  But  you  have  never  heard  me.     How  know  you  but  you  would 
have  been  satisfied  had  you  heard  me  ?     Listen  to  me  now,  and  then 
judge." 

"  If  it.be  in  my  power  to  repair  any  wrong  I  may  have  done,  I  will 
cheerfully  do  it.     But  now  I  must  be  gone." 

"  Another  time,  and  you  will  hear  me  ?" 

M  Another  time  !'  said  she,  leaving  the  room,  and  returning  directly 
to  her  father's  house. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE    WOMAN    WITH    TWO    HUSBANDS,    CONCLUDED. 

Mrs.  C p,  on  returning  home,  passed  the  remainder  of  the  day 

m  profound  melancholy.  Her  thoughts  were  upon  her  daughter,  and 
now  a  hope  had  been  held  out  to  her,  yet  burdened  with  a  condition 
that  seemed  impossible  for  her  to  fulfil. 

But  she  could  not  forget  her  daughter.  The  gleam  of  hope  that 
had  once  shot  across  her  mind,  still  faintly  glimmered  in  the  distance. 
At  one  moment,  she  resolved  to  make  the  sacrifice,  whatever  it  might 
be,  in  order  to  possess  the  dearest  object  of  her  love.  At  another, 
this  seemed  impracticable,  and  she  was  then  plunged  into  the  deepest 
despair. 

Now  reminiscences  of  her  first  love  arose  in  her  heart,  and  the 
reflection  that  she  might  have  done  injustice  to  him  whom  she  once 
tenderly  cherished,  preyed  upon  her.  She  then  at  length  resolved 
that  if  he  should  present  himself  before  her  on  the  following  day  on 
her  visit  to  her  child,  she  would  hear  him,  and  at  all  hazards  would 
recover  possession  of  her  daughter. 

The  morrow  came,  and  at  her  usual  hour  repaired  to  the  school. 
Here,  as  was  anticipated,  she  met  her  former  husband. 

He  told  her  his  story,  and  his  words  fell  on  listening  and  sympa- 
thizing ears.  He  admitted  his  guilt,  but  related  palliating  circum- 
stances that  if  known  at  the  time,  would  have  induced  her  to  forgive 
him. 

As  to  his  profession  of  gambling,  he  had  only  temporarily  pursued 
it  from  necessity,  and  then  only  after  his  marriage,  and  for  the  sake  of 
procuring  a  respectable  and  genteel  living  for  her. 

Born  to  wealth,  and  educated  in  luxury,  he  had  in  a  dissipated 
mood  provoked  his  father  to  abandon  him  ;  and  the  gaming  table, 
which  had  subsequently  afforded  him  occasional  relief,  he  had,  after 


THE  INiaUiTlES  OF  NEW  YORK.  61 

his  marriage,  been  compelled  to  make  his  constant  resort  as  a  sole 
dependence  for  himself  and  family. 

But  he  had  long  since  reformed,  and  had  been  reconciled  to  his 
father,  whose  recent  death  had  now  left  him  in  possession  of  a  large 
fortune. 

He  contended  that  her  divorce  and  subsequent  marriage  were  both 
invalid,  and  he  was  not  served  with  a  legal  notice  in  the  case  of 
her  proceedings  against  him,  and  that  he  might  now  lawfully  claim 
her  as  his  wife. 

He  professed  the  same  ardent  attachment  to  her  as  ever,  and  con- 
jured her  for  her  own  and  his  future  peace  and  happiness  to  abandon 
the  man  to  whom  she  was  not  legally  married,  and  to  return  to  the 
only  one  whom  she  had  ever  truly  loved,  and  with  whom  alone  she 
could  live  happily. 

He  painted  in  vivid  colors  the  enjoyments  and  pleasures  which  his 
wealth  and  a  city  life  would  procure,  and  the  true  bliss  she  would 
find  in  the  society  of  her  child,  and  a  husband  she  loved,  and  with 
opportunities  of  daily  intercourse  with  her  twin-sister  and  other 
friends. 

These  words  produced  a  deep  impression  on  the  susceptible  mind 
of  this  young  and  sorrow-stricken  woman.  She  thought  of  the  dis- 
mal, tedious  hours  she  would  be  doomed  to  pass  in  solitude,  or  what  is 
worse,  in  the  midst  of  uncongenial  society,  and  that  too,  with  a  hus- 
band whom  she  now  looked  on  with  aversion  ;  and  then  after  having 
renewed  her  attachment  to  her  daughter,  to  be  separated  for  ever — 
the  thought  was  agonizing,  and  she  had  not  the  strength  to  endure  it. 

If  she  yielded  she  would  have  her  daughter  again — she  would  be 
surrounded  by  the  charms  and  excitements  of  a  life  of  pleasure  and 
enjoyment,  and  would  also  exchange  the  society  of  a  man  whom  she 
never  loved,  for  one  whom  she  had  always  regarded  with  fondness, 
and  from  whom  she  separated  only  under  the  momentary  passion  of 
resentment  for  her  neglected  and  injured  beauty. 

These  considerations  agitated  her  bosom  with  tumultuous  emotions, 
and  convulsed  with  tears,  she  said : 

"  I  yield  on  one  condition." 

"  What  is  it?     Name  it,"  he  returned  with  eager  impatience. 

"  It  is  this,  I  must  see  my  elder  brother  and  my  sister,  and  if  they 
consent,  I  consent." 

u  Be  it  so ;  I  will  abide  their  decision.  To-morrow  let  us  meet 
again  that  I  may  know  my  fate." 

"To-rnorrow  we  will  meet  again." 


62  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

On  this  the  parties  separated,  when  Mrs.  C p  immediately  re- 
paired to  her  twin-sister,  who  was  married  and  in  good  circumstances, 
residing  in  the  upper  part  of  the  city. 

To  her  she  told  the  whole  story  of  her  sufferings,  and  readily  ob- 
tained her  consent  to  abandon  the  last  husband,  and  by  all  means  to 
recover  the  child.  The  brother  was  called  and  his  consent  was  also 
obtained. 

The  next  day,  Mrs.  C p  and  her  first  husband  again  met  and  ar- 
ranged their  plans,  which  were  to  be  put  immediately  into  execution. 

Evening  came,  and  in  her  father's  house   Mrs.  C p  was  quite 

cheerful. 

Her  husband,  who  observed  this  change  in  her  feelings,  was  him- 
self also  in  the  best  spirits,  and  previous  to  his  going  out  to  spend  the 
evening,  had  bestowed  on  her  the  tenderest  caresses.  Ah !  little  did 
he  know  that  he  was  looking  on  that  lovely  conutenance  for  the  last 
time  ;  little  did  he  know  that  he  was  pressing  those  lips  to  his  own  for 
th»  last  time. 

Soon  after  he  had  gone,  a  carriage  drove  up  near  the  re- 
sidence    of    Mrs.     C p's    father,    the    door    was     thrown    open, 

but   no   one   egressed.     It   had  not  long  been   waiting    when   Mrs. 

C p,  throwing  on  her  bonnet,  slid  unperceived  out  of  her  father's 

house,  and  entered  this  carriage,  which  then  drove  off. 

She  was  not  missed  until  about  ten  o'clock,  when  her  husband 
returned.  Search  was  instantly  made,  messengers  were  dispatched 
to    the    school,  to  her    brother's,  and  to  her   sister's,   but  no  tidings 

of  her.  could  be  obtained.     Mr.  C p  became  alarmed  lest  some 

accident  had  befallen  her,  and  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  hall 
in  great  agitation,  when  a  ring  was  heard  at  the  door  bell.  He 
opened  the  door  in  great  haste,  hoping  to  meet  his  missing  wife,  but 
great  was  his  disappointment  on  receiving  from  a  boy  the  following 
note: 

My  once  Dear  Husband  : 

The  change  which  has  come  over  my  feelings  renders  it  impossi- 
ble for  me  any  longer  to  live  with  you.  This  will  explain  the  cause 
of  my  departure.  I  am  now  gone  where  you  can  never  see  me  more. 
I  trust  that  you  may  bear  the  misfortune  as  becomes  a  man,  and  that 
you  will  hereafter  have  no  cause  to  regret  the  step  I  have  taken. 
You  have  lost  one  who  can  no  longer  love  you,  but  who  now  by  this 
act  gives  you  an  opportunity  to  become  happy  with  another.  My  best 
wishes  for  your  prosperity  and  happiness  go  with  you. 

Farewell,  Maey  C p. 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  63 

On  reading  this,  the  afflicted  man  fainted,  but  on  reviving,  recovered 
a  manlv  composure,  and  bore  the  mortification  and  regret  he  must 
naturally  have  felt  with  a  composed  and  resigned  mind.  Her  parents, 
who  were  taken  by  surprise  at  this  singular  conduct,  were  indignant 
at  their  daughter,  and  made  every  effort  to  find  out  her  place  of  con- 
cealment, in  order  if  possible  to  restore  her  to  her  husband,  with  whom 
thpy  sincerely  sympathized. 

He,  on  the  contrary,  desired  no  effort  should  be  made  to  restore  her 
to  him,  as  he  was  resolved  to  return  immediately  home,  send  back  the 
furniture  and  clothes  belonging  to  her,  and  never  think  of  her  more. 

With  this  resolution  he  returned  home,  and  as  he  had  promised, 
restored  to  his  late  wife  all  that  had  belonged  to  her. 

Mrs.  C p   had,  on  the  night  of  her  elopement,  entered  the  car- 

riage  in  waiting   for  her,  where  she  was  received  in  the  arms  of  Mr. 

C k,  her  first  husband,  and   was  conveyed   immediately  to   her 

brother's   house,  where   with    her  daughter,  she   remained  concealed 
from  her  parents  and  friends  for  some  weeks. 

Afterward  she  had  a  house  of  her  own,  furnished  in  elegant  style, 
with  horses  and  carriages  at  her  command,  and  soon  she  became 
involved  in  a  whirl  of  dissipation  and  amusement. 

Her  first  husband  was  restored  to  her  love,  and  they  seem  to  pass 
their  time  as  happily  as  when  first  married.  She  takes  the  name  of 
her  first  husband,  and  few  knew  any  thing  of  her  previous  adventures. 

But  among  all  her  friends  and  acquaintances  she  is  beloved  for  her 
beauty,  her  agreeable  manners,  her  lively  and  entertaining  wit,  and 
also  for  her  numerous  virtues,  which  shine  conspicuous  through  the 
tenor  of  her  life. 


CHAPTER     X. 

SCENES   AND   ACTIONS    IN    THE    SOCIETY    OF    MORAL    REFORM. 

A  tall,  young  and  beautiful  woman,  known  by  the  cognomen  of 
Mrs.  (we  will  not  give  her  real  name,  but  call  it)  Shampill,  was  a 
leading  actor  in  the  Moral  Reform  movements  of  this  city. 

Her  history  may  be  thus  briefly  summed  up  :  She  and  two  sisters 
were  early  left  orphans,  and  dependent  on  their  own  exertions  for 
bread — she  learned  the  trade  of  milliner.  The  eldest  was  soon  mar- 
ried, and  after  having  borne  two  children,  was  left  a  widow.  The 
next  younger  sister  died  about  the  same  time.  Thus  the  widow  and 
the  youngest  sister — the  latter  but  eighteen — found  themselves  alone 
in  the  world. 

They  took  a  house  together,  and  let  rooms  to  lodgers,  but  it  was  not 
long  before  the  busy  tongue  of  scandal  had  filled  the  air  with  rumors, 
false  or  true.  The  youngest,  to  counteract  the  effect  of  these  tales, 
consented  to  marry  a  miserable  old  invalid,  who  belonged  to  a  family 
of  some  distinction)  but  whose  fortune  was  now  now  reduced  to  a  few 
hundred  dollars. 

With  this  small  sum  a  larger  house  was  taken,  and  furnished  in 
good  style,  and  the  name  of  Dr.  Shampill  put  on  the  door,  as  the  old 
man  had  been  a  doctor,  though  without  practice.  In  this  new 
establishment  they  lived  ;  but  what  they  gained  in  money  they  lost  in 
reputation. 

The  house  was  made  the  scene  of  gayety  and  dissipation.  Fre- 
quently they  gave  supper  parties.  On  such  occasions,  at  about  nine 
o'clock,  a  party  of  young  gentlemen  and  young  ladies  would  be 
gathered,  and  love  and  song,  and  mirth  and  pleasure,  would  go  round 
till  past  the  keystone  hour  of  the  night. 

To  speak  of  the  character  of  the  ladies  assembled,  or  to  describe 
more  particularly  the  scenes  enacted  on  these  occasions,  is  foreign  to 
the  purposes  of  this  work.     It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  Mrs.  Dr.  Sham- 


THE  maUiTIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  65 

pill  became  an  object  of  much  admiration  within  a  certain  circle  of 
young  men,  and  frequently  rode  out,  or  walked  with  some  of  the 
dashing  young  men  lhat  frequented  her  house,  while,  in  her  own  house, 
she  was  conspicuous  in  the  merry-making  parties,  which  boded  no 
good  to  her  fame. 

Days  passed  on,  and  Mrs.  Dr.  Shampill  and  her  sister  quarreled, 
and  separated.  The  former  took  a  new  house,  letting  the  rooms  to 
lodgers,  joined  the  church  and  entered  the  business  of  moral  reform. 

Another  actor  in  these  scenes  was  also  the  wife  of  a  doctor.  She 
was  the  victim  of  a  mother's  lolly. 

In  a  town  in  the  northern  part  of  this  State  she  was  born  and 
educated.  Her  mother,  who  became  romantically  attached  to  a 
female- friend,  had  at  a  boarding  school  joined  in  a  mutual  vow  that 
their  future' children  should  be  united  in  matrimony.  It  so  happened 
that  this  mother  married  rich,  and  her  friend  comparatively  poor,  and 
the  only  son  of  the  latter  was  ten  years  older  than  the  only  daughter 
of  the  former. 

This  mother,  when  her  daughter  was  but  fifteen,  was  brought  upon 
her  death  bed,  during  the  absence  of  her  husband  at  the  South.  At 
this  solemn  juncture,  her  female  friend  came  forward  and  insisted  on 
the  marriage  of  their  children,  lest,  after  her  death,  it  might  be  pre- 
vented. She  wished,  at  all  events,  to  secure  a  rich  bride  for 
her  son. 

The  marrirge  ceremony  was  privately  performed,  and,  as  previously 
agreed  upon,  the  parties  immediately  separated,  not  to  re-unite  or 
make  their  marriage  known  to  friends  or  the  public  for  two  years. 

Mr.  B 1,  which  was  the  name  of  the  bridegroom,  returned  to  his 

studies  in  the  medical  college,  and  Mrs.  B 1,  after  her  mother's 

death,  was  sent  to  a  boarding-school. 

After  the  stipulated  lapse  of  time,  the  victims  of  this  foolish  marriage 
returned  to  their  native  place,  and  were  publicly  married  over  again. 
Of  course  it  took  but  a  short  time  for  them  to  discover  that  they  were 
mutually  unfitted  for  each  other's  society,  and  that  a  mutual  aversion 
existed  between  them. 

Mrs.  15 1  was  but  seventeen,  beautiful,  accomplished,  and  fond 

of  gayety.  The  susceptibilities  of  her  private  nature,  and  the 
inclinations  of  her  mind,  easily  lead  her  from  her  plodding,  ungainly 
and  phlegmatic  husband  into  censurable  flirtations  with  the  gay  and 
designing  admirers  in  whose  society  she  found  more  congenial  sym- 
[•ath. 

Disgraced  at  home,  her  father  denounced  and  cast  her  off,  when 


G6  A3M0DEUS  ;  OR, 

she  and  her  husband  came  to  the  City  of  New  York  to  seek  their  for- 
tunes. After  various  struggles  and  trials,  through  which  he  was 
supported  by  his  wife,  he  at  length  commenced  business  as  a  homoeo- 
pathic physician. 

Mrs.  Dr.  B 1,  who'had  hitherto  spent  several  weeks,  or  months, 

every  winter  at  the  South,  in  the  company  of  an  uncle  or  a  cousin, 
and  who  had  flirted  herself  out  of  all  respectable  society  at  Saratoga 
Springs,  and  had,  in  one  instance,  been  requested  to  leave  the  United 
States  Hotel — now  settled  down  in  her  own  house  in  this  city,  and  had 
things  in  her  own  way. 

If  the  doctor's  business  was  not  very  lucrative  at  first,  the  house 
nevertheless  thrived — furniture,  and  dress,  and  gay  company,  and 
money,  were  not  wanting  to  make  time  pass  pleasantly  away. 

Mrs.  Dr.  B 1  now  became  a  leader  in  the  moral  reform  move- 
ment. 

Another  conspicuous  actor  was  an  old  deformed  woman,  a  widow, 
who  had  been  a  milliner  all  her  days,  and  having  in  her  old  age  joined 
the  church,  set  up  for  the  character  of  a  benevolent  woman. 

She  united  herself  with  every  religious  or  charitable  society,  where 
she  could  get  admitted,  and  finding  her  former  occupation  was  looked 
on  as  rather  vulgar  by  the  professors  of  religion  and  charity,  contrived, 
by  the  aid  of  a  poor  music-teacher  and  an  old  piano,  to  set  up  the 
double  business  of  a  select  boarding-school  and  a  boarding-house  for  a 
"  few  families"or  i;  single  gentlemen." 

If  she  would  every  week  have  a  day  or  two  to  herself,  when  she 
would  lie  in  her  dining-room  stretched  on  a  settee  in  a  state  of  stupor, 
which  the  uncharitable  called  drunkenness,  it  was  not  her  fault,  but 
that  of  her  ill-health,  which  required  the  free  use  of  brandy,  as  pre- 
scribed by  her  physician,  who  was,  and  is,  a  well-known  temperance 
lecturer. 

If  her  boarders  would  frequently  refuse  to  eat  what  was  set  before 
them,  it  was  not  her  fault,  for  she  always  bought  the  cheapest  the 
market  afforded. 

If  the  daughter  would  charge  the  mother  with  lying  and  drunken- 
ness, it  was  not  the  fault  of  the  parent,  for  she  had  often  told  the  child 
not  to  do  so,  as  it  would  be  a  scandal  to  her  who  belonged  to  so  many 
religious  and  temperance  societies,  and  who  stood  so  high  in  the 
ch  u  rch . 

Mrs.  Cain,  for  that  was  the  pious  old  lady's  name,  had  often  been 
charged  with  not  paying  any  of  her  servants,  but  this  charge  was 
false,  for  she  did  at  least  pay  one  as  follows: 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF^EW  YORK.  67 

A  meeting  of  one  of  the  charitable  associations  to  which  she  be- 
belonged  met  at  her  house  to  distribute  clothing  to  the  poor. 

"  I  have  sent,"  said  Mrs.  Cain,  M  for  a  very  poor  widow  woman, 
with  small  children,  to  come  and  get  some  clothing  to-day." 

"  Let  her  be  brought  in,"  said  the  Presidentess. 

Mrs.  Cain  went  out  and  soon  returned  with  her  own  servant,  whom 
she  had  instructed  to  play  her  part. 

The  servant  received  the  clothing,  and  Mrs.  Cain  afterward  charged 
twice  its  value  in  payment  of  her  wages. 

Such  were  three  of  the  most  conspicuous  actors  in  the  Moral  Re- 
form  Society  of  the  City  of  New  York. 

Let  us  attend  an  informal  meeting  of  these  immaculate  moral 
reformers. 

It  is  called  at  Sister  Cain's.  A  few  only  are  notified  to  attend. 
The  business  is  looking  after  suspected  delinquents,  either  the  hus- 
bands or  lovers  of  the  female  moral  reformers. 

The  presidentess,  a  busy  old  maid,  and  the  treasurer,  a  simple- 
minded  and  pious  matron,  whose  husband  never  troubled  himself  about 

her  affairs,  were  present.     Mrs.  Dr.  Shampill,  Mrs.  Dr.  B 1,  and 

Mrs.  Milliner,  school-mistress,  boarding-house-keeper-Cain,  together 
with  a  couple  of  young  married  ladies,  formed  the  remainder  of  the 
members  of  the  meeting,  with  two  exceptions — these  were  the  clair- 
voyant operator,  styled  Dr.  Ashwood,  and  his  subject,  Eliza. 

The  members  present  were  believers  in  the  occult  science  and 
mysteries  of  clairvoyance.  The  disbelievers  were  not  notified  to 
attend. 

The  presidentess  called  the  meeting  to  order. 

Prayer  by  Sister  Cain. 

Next  came  the.  order  of  the  day. 

Sister  Cain  rose  and  said  that  "Mrs.  Wood  was  present,  and  though 
she  had  not  yet  been  married  one  year,  she  was  thrown  into  the 
greatest  distress  of  mind  at  the  recent  neglect  of  her  husband,  and  his 
absence  from  home  to  a  very  late  hour  at  night.  I  move  that  the 
clairvoyant  be  put  upon  him,  that  we  may  find  him  out  and  reform 
him." 

"  I  second  the  motion,"  says  Mrs.  Dr.  B 1. 

"The  vote  is  unanimous,"  announced  the  presidentess. 
The  operator  puts  his  subject  in  motion. 

"  There  he  goes !"  exclaims  the  clairvoyant,  Eliza.  "  There  he 
goes — see — trace  him  into  that  elegant  house  near  the  Parade  Ground. 
It  is  ten  o'clock." 


68  ASMODEUS;  OR, 

"  Who  lives  there  ?"  asked  the  operator- 
Mrs.  Dr.  Shampill  turns  pale,  moves  in  her  seat,  and  puts  her  hand- 
kerchief to  her  mouth. 

"It  is  a  doctor/'  answers  Eliza.  "  See,  he  approaches  that  beauti- 
ful woman.     She  smiles — the  gentleman  /mrriles." 

11  Well,  what  else  do  you  see  ?" 

"  He  sits  down  by  her  side." 

"  Well,  what  else  ?" 

•'  A  little  rosy-cheeked  boy  with  arrows  hovers  over  them,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  they  are  enveloped  in  a  misty  shower  of  gold." 

"  Well,  what  else  ?" 

"All  looks  bright  and  luminous  ;  but  I  can  see  nothing  more." 

"  Who  is  this  lady  ?" 

"  The  doctor's  wife." 

"  What  is  her  name  ?" 

"You  will  see  the  name  on  the  door-plate.     It  begins  with  S." 

"This  is  a  dubious  case,"  said  Mrs.  Cain. 

All  eyes  were  now  turned  to  Mrs.  Dr.  Shampill,  for  all  could  have 
no  doubt  that  it  was  her  that  was  meant. 

"  Please  ask  the  clairvoyant  what  night  this  was?"  said  Mrs.  Dr. 
Shampill,  in  a  bold  tone. 

"What  night  was  this?" 

"It  was  last  Friday  night." 

"Do  you  not  remember,"  asked  Mrs.  Dr.  Shampill,  turning  toward 
the  treasurer,  "that  on  last  Saturday  morning  I  handed  you  a  dona- 
tion from  a  friend,  of  a  two  dollar  and  a  half  gold  piece  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  replied  the  treasurer. 

"Now  I  can  tell  you  how  it  was,"  explained  Mrs.  Dr.  Shampill. 
"  The  doctor  was  standing  at  the  door  and  saw  Mr.  Wood  passing, 
and  he  called  him  in.  I  philopcened  Mr.  Wood,  and  he  gave  a  small 
donation  to  the  society,  which  money  I  handed  the  next  morning  to 
the  treasurer,  and  this  is  the  golden  shower  Eliza  saw." 

"  This  explanation  seems  entirely  satisfactory,"  said  Mrs.  Dr. 
B 1. 

"  I  think  so  too,"  said  the  treasurer. 

Mrs.  Wood  expressed  herself  satisfied  with  the  explanation  ;  when 
the   examination    proceeded   in   regard  to  a   young  man,  a  clerk  in 

Broad-street,  whose  conduct  Mrs.  Dr.  B 1  wished  scrutinized,  as 

she  pretended,  for  the  sake  of  a  cousin  of  hers,  a  young  lady  to  whom 
the  young  gentleman  in  question  was  engaged  to  be  married. 

The    real    truth    was,  this  young  gentleman    was  a  fond   and   too 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  69 

familiar  friend  of  Mrs.  Dr.  B 1,  and  she  had  lately  suspected  him 

of  certain  vagaries  which  did  not  over-please  her. 

The  examination  proceeded,  but  nothing  definite  was  elicited,  save 
a  visit  or  two  to  some  young  ladies,  whom,  perhaps,  he  oright  not  to 
have  visited. 

The  other  young  married  lady  had  her  husband's  conduct  put  under 
the  clairvoyant  sight,  but  nothing  of  moment  was  elicited,  save  that  he 

was  fond  of  calling  on  Mrs.  Dr.  B 1,  and  had  been  seen  riding  out 

witii  Mrs.  Dr.  Shampill.  But  these  circumstances  were  satisfactorily 
explained. 

The  clairvoyants  were  dismissed  with  a  fee  of  fifteen  dollars,  five  of 
which  went  privately  in  the  pocket  of  Sister  Cain,  who  had  procured 
for  him  the  job  of  regularly  attending  these  meetings. 

At  the  regular  meetings  of  the  society,  the  treasurer  accounted  for 
these  expenses  under  the  head  of  miscellanies,  and  would  never  give 
any  more  particular  account  of  the  money.  To  replenish  the  treasury, 
the  country  auxiliary  societies  were  loudly  called  on  to  aid  in  the 
cause  of  female  virtue,  and  the  rich  and  benevolent  in  the  city  were 
frequently  importuned  to  contribute. 

The  meeting  broke  up. 

Mrs.  Dr.  B 1  met  her  friend  in  the  evening,  and  charged  him 

with  what  had  been  revealed  by  the  clairvoyant. 

Mrs.  Dr.  Shampill  returned  home  and  took  off  her  plain  black  dress 
in  which  she  always  appeared  at  the  society,  at  church  and  on  other 
similar  occasions. 

She  now  arrayed  herself  in  gay  and  dashing  colors  and  bedecked 
with  jewelry.  Her  husband,  as  he  was  styled,  was  in  the  basement, 
where  he  was  usually  kept,  when  a  well-jressed  young  gentleman 
called. 

A  short  time  afterward,  Mrs.  Dr.  Shampill  and  Mr.  Wood  were 
seen  riding  out  on  the  Bloomingdale  Road,  and  seemingly  in  the 
highest  glee.  • 

Thus  goes  the  world,  and  of  such  stuff  are  made  half  the  pretended 
reformers  of  the  world. 


CHAPTER    XI. 


A    SCENE    IN    DUANE-STREET. 


We  here  present  another  chapter  of  the  Iniquities  of  New  York, 
in  which  is  pictured  forth  a  deplorable  state  of  morals. 

The  scenes  here  depicted — unfortunately  of  too  common  occurrence 
— confirm  the  statements  of  some  of  the  most  experienced  police 
officers,  who  affirm  that  two-thirds  of  the  support  given  to  the  houses 
of  ill-fame,  in  this  city,  comes  from  married  men. 

Some  of  the  parties  involved  in  the  following  occurrence  occupy 
distinguished  positions  in  society,  and  the  degradation  to  which  they 
have  stooped,  only  renders  the  more  conspicuous  and  more  dangerous 
the  flagrant  vices  to  which  they  have  been  addicted. 

The  pen  of  the  moralist  and  the  tongue  of  the  reformer  are  called 
on  for  a  more  bold  and  active  exercise  of  their  benevolence  in  the  work 
o^  wiping  out  from  the  face  of  society  the  foul  stains  of  licentiousness 
and  debauchery. 

As  the  Spartans  exhibited  drunken  helots  before  their  children,  to 
incite  in  their  minds  an  abhorrence  of  the  drunkenness,  so  we  here 
present  to  the  world  the  following  picture  of  sin  and  depravity,  copied 
from  the  columns  of  the  Police  Gazette,  in  order  that  this  rock  of 
temptation  and  death  may  be  shunned  : 

A  rich  and  racy  scene  occurred  at  the  Court  of  Special  Sessions  on 
Friday  last.     On  that  occasion,  a  pretty  and  fashionably  attired  young 

girl,  named  Caroline  M ,  was  placed  on  trial,  charged  with  having 

violently  assaulted  Mrs.  Jane  W — ; — ,  keeper  of  a  house  of  prostitution, 
No.  —  Duane-street. 

Mrs.  W ,  who  presents  an  antiquated  appearance  of  forty  odd 

years  gathering,  appeared  in  court,  most  flauntingly  attired  in  silks 
and  furbelows,  while  the  early  hour  at  which  she  had  risen,  caused 
such  haste  in  her  toilet,  as  to  leave  the  recent  traces  of  paint  and 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  71 

powder  streaming  down  her  face,  like  a  muddy  brook  rushing  through 
a  chalk  pit.  She  was  attended  by  several  of  her  "  boarders,"  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  fair  prisoner  was  escorted  into  conrt  by  a  crowd 
of  tawdry-dressed  associates,  intermingled  with  her  "talented  and 
ingenious"  attorney  at  law. 

Jane  W being  examined,  testified    that  the   prisoner  was  a 

boarder  in  her  establishment  for  the  last  three  months.  On  the 
morning  of  the  12th  of  July,  about  half-past  10  o'clock,  her  attention 
: traded  by  the  servant  girl  Maria,  who  complained  that  Caroline 
was  making  a  muss  on  the  table  cloth,  by  spilling  the  coffee  and 
breaking  the  cups  and  saucers.  Witness  went  down  stairs  for  the 
purpose  of  expostulation  with  her,  when  the  latter  insisted  on  having 
hot  coffee  for  breakfast,  as  she  paid  seven  dollars  a  week  for  her 
board.  The  servant  told  her  that  if  she  would  come  to  breakfast 
early,  instead  of  walking  down  stairs  at  half  past  ten,  she  could  get 
her  coffee  always  hot.  Witness  endeavored  to  remove  Caroline  from 
the  room ^ when  she  smashed  cups,  saucers,  china,  glass,  ornaments, 
and  every  thing  else  she  could  lay  her  hands  on,  and  on  witness 
attempting  to  prevent  her,  she  flew  at  her  like  a  tigress — tore 
her  clothes,  grappled  her  by  the  throat  and  would  have  choked 
her  to  death,  but  for  the  interference  of  Dr.  Fall,  who  came  to 
her  rescue. 

Counsel  for  defense. — What  sort  of  house  do  you  keep,  and  where 
do  you  keep  it  ? 

Witness.     I  keep  a  boarding  house  at  —  Duane-street. 

Counsel.     Are  they  all  girl  boarders  ? 

Witness.     Well,  1  guess  so. 

Counsel.     Do  you  know  Mr.  J.  A ? 

Witness.     Yes,  very  well. 

Counsel.     Does  he  or  Dr.  Fall  board  there  ?     (Laughter.) 

Witness.     No,  sir,  they  don't. 

Counsel.  Did  you  or  either  of  those  gentlemen  shake  this  prisoner 
before  she  attacked  you  ? 

Witness.     No,  sir,  they  didn't  do  no  such  thing. 

Counsel.     What  does  this  girl  pay  for  her  board  per  week  ? 

Witness.     $7  per  week.  \ 

Counsel.     Besides  bed  money  ?     (Laughter.) 

Witness,  (with  much  impertinent  indignation.)  Bed  money  !  What's 
bed  money,  sir  ?  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  sir  !  Bed  money  ! 
1  never  receive  bed  money,  sir.  (Great  laughter  among  the  audience, 
and  the  police  and  Prince  John  Davis'  finger  to  his  nose.) 


72  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

Joe  A was  here  called  as  a  witness  in  behalf  of  Mrs.  W , 

but  he  did  not  answer. 

Dr.  Adolph  Fall  was  next  called  to  the  stand,  amid  a  Buttering 
excitement  from  the  audience,  who  appeared  to  expect  some  rich 
developments  from  the  professional  attendant  of  a  house  so  well  known 
for  disease  and  for  every  creeping  thing. 

The  doctor  stated  that,  at  about  half-past  ten  o'clock,  on  the  morning 
in  question,  while  he  was  attending  a  patient  in  the  house  opposite  that 

kept  by  Mrs.  W ,  a  girl  called  to  him  from  the  attic  window,  and 

said  that  Caroline  was  murdering  Miss  Jane,  down  stairs,  and  begged 
him  to  come  over  right  away  and  separate  them,  as  she  had  her  down 
on  the  floor  belting  her  among  the  broken  crockery  ;  that  he  ran 
directly  across  into  the  basement,  and  found  Caroline  bearing  Miss 
Jane  with  one  hand  and  choking  her  with  the  other  ;  that  he  attempted 
to  part  them,  but  had  much  difficulty  before  he  succeeded,  and  after- 
ward had  to  send  for  a  policeman  to  take  Caroline  away  to  the  Tombs. 

Cross-examined  by  defense.  What  is  your  business,  sir,  ^nd  where 
do  you  reside  1 

Witness.  I  am  a  physician,  and  my  residence  is  at  —  Warren- 
street. 

Q.     Do  you  often  visit  this  house,  doctor  ? 

A.  {much  excited.)  1  have  a  right  to  attend  the  house  as  often  as  I 
please,  professionally,  sir  ;  I  have  answered  the  question,  and  I  don't 
wish  to  be  asked  any  impertinent  questions  beyond  it. 

Q.  Many  of  the  inmates  of  the  house  are  continually  diseased,  are 
they  not,  doctor,  and  this  makes  it  necessary  for  you  to  call  often,  I 
suppose  ? 

A.  They  're  like  other  girls,  I  suppose — sick  and  well,  as  circum- 
stances happen.     (Laughter.) 

Q.  You  appear  to  Know  them  all  well,  doctor,  you  speak  and  nod 
to  them  familiarly,  as  I  saw  just  now. 

A.  No,  sir,  I  don't  know  them  more  than  other  persons  whose 
business  brings  them  there  professionally..  (Much  smirking  among  the 
policemen  present  at  the  latitude  of  the  word  "professionally" 

Q.  Your  professional  license  gives  you  great  latitude,  doesn't  it, 
doctor,  in  all  matters  appertaining  to  female  diseases  ?     (Laughter.) 

A.     Of  course  it  does — it's  my  business. 

Q.  Have  you  ever  seen  a  model  artiste  at  Mrs.  W 's  for  medi- 
cal inspection  ?     (Roars  of  Laughter.) 

A.  I  shall  answer  no  question  not  relative  to  the  case.  (More 
roars.) 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  73 

Q.     Well,  doctor,  answer  me  this.     Did  you  ever  see  any  thing  at 

Mrs.  W 's  that  looked   like  a  live  corpse  ?     (Shouts  of  laughter, 

with  cries  of  order,  order.) 

A.  I  appeal  to  the  court  for  protection — I  sha'n't  answer  such 
questions.     (More  snorting.) 

Q.  Doctor,  never  mind  about  that  answer.  But  did  you  ever  see 
Joe  A at  the  house  of  Mrs.  W ?  ' 

The  doctor  objected  to  answering  the  question  and  it  was  ruled  out 
by  the  court. 

Q.  While  you  were  attempting  to  separate  the  parties  in  the 
basement,  didn't  you  bite  one  of  Miss  Caroline's  fingers  so  severely 
that  the  blood  ran  down  on  your  breast  and  spotted  your  shirt 
bosom? 

A.  No,  sir.  I  did  not — my  linen  was  soiled,  but  it  was  caused  by 
my  nose  bleeding,  and  not  by  biting  her  finger. 

Q.     What  caused  your  nose  to  bleed,  doctor  ?     (Laughter.) 

A .  I  don't  know,  except  it  was  the  excitement  of  the  affray  between 
the  women. 

Q.  VVhat's  the  best  cure  for  nose  bleed,  doctor?  (Great 
laughter.) 

A.  I'm  not  here  to  answer  this  question,  sir.  (Great  laughter, 
during  which  some  one  was  heard  to  say  in  sotto  voce,  "put  ice  in  your 
breeches. ") 

The  policeman  who  arrested  Miss  Caroline  was  then  called  and 
testified  that  she  was  very  violent  and  mighty  stormy  when  he  entered 
the  basement. 

Recorder.  Well,  Caroline,  what  have  you  got  to  say  about  this 
business? 

Caroline.  It's  all  a  piece  of  spite  against  me,  because  I  threatened 
to  expose  her  carryings  on  with  her  lovers;  they  and  she  irritated  me 
to  it.  I  had  to  go  to  the  Battery  that  morning  to  meet  a  gentleman, 
and  as  I  didn't  get  to  bed  till  late,  for  we  sometimes  don't  go  at  all  if 
there's  no  company,  and  hardly  ever,  till  4  o'clock,  I  didn't  get  back 
in  time  for  breakfast ;  I  went  into  the  kitchen  and  the  girl  said  there 
was  nothing  but  cold  coffee,  and  I  don't  like  cold  coffee,  and  she  gave 
me  some  sauce,  and  I  threw  the  coffee  on  the  table.  At  this  the  girl 
went  up  stairs,  and  down  came  Miss  Jane,  like  a  raving  fury,  and  com- 
menced calling  me  all  sorts  of  names,  such  as  your  honors  would 
blush  to  hear,  and  I  called  her  names  back,  so  I  did.  She  then 
clinched  me  and  1  clinched  her,  and  instantly  one  of  her  lovers,  Dr. 
Adolph  Fall,  who  stands  over  there,  rushed  in  and  took  her  part  and 


74  ASMODEUS;  OR, 

endeavored  to  choke  me  off.     Fie  shoved  me  against  the  wall,  and  I 
pushed  my  hand  out  against  his  face,  so  as  to  prevent  him,  when  he 
clinched  one  of  my  fingers  with  his  teeth  and  bit  it  to  the  bone,  so  that 
the  blood  run  all  over  the  bosom  of  his  shirt. 
Recorder.     Is  Dr.  Fall  often  there  ? 

A.     Oh   yes,    bless   you ;  he  and  Joe  A are  always  there. 

(Great  laughter.)     A was  there  that  morning,  and  he'  hid  himself 

in  a  clothes  press  up  stairs.     (Roars.) 

Q.     Is  Mr.  A a  doctor,  too?     (Laughter.) 

A.  O  no,  Lord  bless  you — he's  a  music  man  in  Broadway,  some- 
where— (roars  again) — but  they're  both  lovers  of  hers;  she  sometimes 
has  both  of  them  in  the  house  at  once ;  one  in  the  basement  and  the 
other  in  her  room  up  stairs.  (Snorting  laughter.  Prince  John,  with 
one  hand  in  his  pocket,  moving  for  the  door.) 
Q.     Do  they  board  there  1 

A.  Not  regularly,  or  to  pay  for  it,  but  they  dine  very  often  with 
the  girls,  for  they  do  anything  that  Miss  Jane  tells  the*m  to  do.  (Great 

laughter.)     A takes  breakfast  very  often  in  the  morning,  and  Dr. 

Fall  comes  in  the  evening — the  doctor  made  her  a  present  of  a  kissing 
chair,  (roars)  a  few  days  since,  and  she  wants  to  have  me  punished 
because  I  laughed  and  talked  about  it — I  couldn't  help  it,  I'll  assure 
you  1  couldn't,  to  think  of  her  kissing,  as  she  is  old  enough  to  be  my 
mother.     (Roars  of  laughter.) 

Q.  Caroline,  I'm  afraid  you've  got  a  bad  temper,  and  if  we  let  you 
go  you'll  assail  her  again  in  the  house. 

A.  (Witness  cryirig.)  I'm  as  quiet  and  as  good  natured  as  any 
girl  is,  and  how  can  I  do  anything  to  her  when  Dr.  Fall  and  Joe 

A are  always  in  the  house  ?    If  the  court  will  let  me  go  this  time, 

I'll  never  go  near  her  place  again,  I'll  assure  you,  as  soon  as  I  get  my 
clothes  away  from  there. 

Recorder.  The  court  have  consulted  about  your  case,  and  under 
the  circumstances  we  shall  order  you  to  be  confined  in  the  city  prison 
ten  days,  in  hopes  you  may  conclude  to  quit  this  course  of  life  and  enter 
some  Magdalen  asylum  for  penitence  and  reformation. 

Caroline  then  left  the  court,  attended  by  her  escort  to  the  prison 
entrance. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

SCENES    IN  A    BOARDING  HOUSE,  IN  WHICH  A  BEAUTIFUL    BUT    MYSTEBIOUS 
■    YOUNG  WIDOW  FIGURES. 

There  are  certain  phases  in  the  boarding-house  life  in  this  city 
that  are  rich  in  scenes  of  gaiety,  love  and  depravity.  The  quantity 
of  wickedness  cloaked  in  some  instances  under  the  name  of  boarding- 
house,  would,  if  exposed,  appear  to  most  people  frightful. 

The  following  scenes  are  taken  from  real  life,  and  are  illustrative 
of  a  great  deal  of  similar  life  every  day  occurring  in  various  parts  of 
the  city. 

Mrs.  Smith  has  a  large  house  elegantly  furnished  in  Houston-street, 
and  her  rooms  filled  with  boarders. 

In  describing  the  group,  conspicuous  among  them  appears  a  decay- 
ed, or  decaying  doctor,  a  widower,  who  lives  on  his  money,  and 
liberally  enjoys  the  best  of  liquors.  He  occupies  the  back-parlor, 
which  seemed  to  be  the  head-quarters  of  the  landlady  also,  and  if  ru- 
mor did  not  belie  her,  she  was,  in  the  poetic  language  of  Burns, 
"  The  lass  that  made  the  bed  to  him." 
Among  the  other  boarders  were  a  merchant,  two  clerks,  a  young 
doctor,  who  could  not  pay  his  board  bill,  and  two  young  men  with 
plenty  of  money  and  up  to  any  thing. 

The  landlady  was  a  buxom  widow  of  forty,  full  of  life,  gaiety, 
romance,  and  of  the  utmost  liberality  in  speech  and  manners.  She 
was  blessed  with  two  daughters,  fifteen  and  seventeen  years  of  age, 
who  were  chips  of  the  old  block,  and  the  youngest  one,  all  block. 

It  happened  one  day  that  Mr.  Curry,  a  Wall-street  broker,  an  old 
familiar  acquaintance  of  Mrs.  Smith,  called   to  obtain  board  for  Mrs. 

B n,  a  young  widow,  then  boarding  in  his  family. 

.  Smith  knowing  the  piety  and  excellent  character  of  the 
broker's  wife,  and  consequently  feeling  assured  that  from  the  circum- 
stance of  the  widow's  residing  in  such  a  family,  she  must  bo  quite 
orthodox  in  all  the  proprieties  of  life,  accordingly  took  her  in. 


76  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

A  few  days  after,  a  young  gentleman  who  represented  himself  as  a 
merchant  from  the  South,  came  with  his  most  beautiful  wife  and  took 
board. 

One  day,  after  a  frolicsome  evening  in  the  parlor,  when  the  rest  of 
the  company  had  retired,  the  landlady,  Mrs.  Smith,  called  a  dashing 
young  man — Mr.  Jones — one  of  her  boarders,  to  her,  and  in  low  con- 
tidential  tone,  said  : 

"  There  is  to  be  a  private  fancy  dress  ball  at  a  friend's  of  mine,  in 
a  ^e\v  days;   would  you  like  to  attend?" 

"  With  all  my  heart,  nothing  will  please  me  more." 

"  Mind  you  now,  this  is  all  to  be  kept  a  secret,  and  there  will  be 
some  pretty  girls  there,  and  you  can  fall  in  love  with  them  as  much 
as  you  please." 

"  That's  capital !     Just  what  I  like  !" 

"  You  must  keep  it  all  a  secret." 

"To  be  sure  I  will." 

"  I'll  explain  to  you  confidentially  all  about  it.  I  have  a  friend 
residing  in  Liberty-street." 

"  O,  yes  !  I  know  her !  It  was  the  lady  you  introduced  to  me  at  the 
dinner-table  the  other  day.     Mrs.  El  wood — is  not  that  the  lady  ?'? 

"Yes;  it  is  she." 

"I  thought  so,"  replied  Jones,  touching  his  thumb  to  the  nasal  ex- 
tremity, and  gyrating  his  digitals  in  a  very  significant  manner. 

"  Did  you  ever  know  her  before  ?" 

"  No ;  but  I  have  known  her  since,  and  know  who  it  was  that  went 
to  Boston  with  her,  whom  she  pretended  was  her  husband.  The  day 
I  saw  her  at  your  table  she  slyly  invited  me  to  call  on  her,  and  I  have 
been  several  times  to  see  her." 

"  Well,  since  you  know  something  about  her,  I'll  tell  you  all  I 
know  of  her.  I  have  been  acquainted  with  her  since  she  was  married 
a  dozen  years  ago  to  a  very  nice  young  man.  He  took  it  into  his 
head  one  day  to  get  jealous  of  a  young  lawyer,  and  perhaps  he  had 
cause.  At  any  rate,  he  got  up  one  morning,  took  his  trunk  and 
clothes  and  went  off,  leaving  her  with  the  furniture.  She  then  lived 
with  the  lawyer,  who  now  oftentimes  passes  as  her  husband,  though 
in  her  house  she  styles  herself  as  a  widow.  You  know  she  lets  out 
rooms  to  single  gentlemen." 

"  I  know  she  is  regarded  a  very  respectable  and  nice  lady  by  her 
lodgers  and  by  the  neighbors." 

"Well,  as  to  the  ball.  She  is  in  the  practice  of  giving  some  very 
private  and  select  balls." 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  77 

"  Who  will  be  there  ?" 

11 1  can't  tell  you,  for  it  is  a  rule  that  none  shall  know  each  other. 
You  will  be  introduced  to  the  company,  but  by  some  fictitious  name, 
and  if  you  ever  see  any  of  the  party  hereafter  in  any  other  place,  you 
are  not  to  know  them." 

"  What  sort  of  company  is  it  ?" 

"All  very  respectable.  Every  lady  present  will  be  of  the  highest 
respectability." 

"Are  you  going  V   asked  Jones. 

"To  be  sure  I  am."  answered  Mrs.  Smith,  in  a  bold  tone. 

"  Are  there  any  others  going  whom  I  know  ?" 

"Yes;  and  though  it  is  against  the  rules  to  tell,  yet  I'll  tell  you. 
The  young  widow  is  going,  and  Mrs.  Parrot,  and  Mrs.  Clark.  Mrs. 
Parrot,  you  know,  is  the  young  lady  that  has  just  come  here." 

"  Yes,  I  know  her.  Her  pretended  husband  is  a  notorious  gambler, 
and  she  is  his  paramour.  They  have  just  come  from  New  Orleans  to 
spend  the  summer  at  the  North." 

"Well,  I  knew  something  about  that— you'll  keep  it  secret.  She 
is  a  beautiful  lady  and  knows  how  to  behave  with  propriety." 

'•Who  is  Mrs.  Clark?" 

"  The  lady  I  introduced  you  to  the  other  day.  She  is  rich,  and  has 
got  a  very  nice  young  man  for  a  husband,  but  as  she  has  all  the 
money,  he  has  to  do  just  as  she  tells  him.  He  can't  buy  a  suit  of 
clothes  without  her  permission.  But  he'll  never  know  of  her  going  to 
this  ball." 

"  Who  is  this  young  widow,  now  with  you  ?"  asked  Jones. 

"  I  don't  know.  Mr.  Curry,  and  an  old  friend,  brought  her  here. 
She  says  he  is  her  trustee,  and  has  the  management  of  her  funds. 
She  was  in  his  family  a  short  time,  but  Mrs.  Curry  cleared  her  out. 
and  he  brought  her  here.  Mrs.  Curry,  I  have  heard,  is  a  very 
unhappy  woman." 

After  this  conversation,  the  parties  retired — the  one  to  ponder  on 
schemes  for  new  intrigues,  and  the  other,  young  Jones,  to  dream  of 
the  fancy  ball. 


CHAPTER     XIII 


THE    FANCY   BALL. 


The  scene  is  now  in  Mrs.  Elwood's  house  in  Liberty-street. 
She  had  taken  advantage  of  a  temporary  absence  of  her  lodgers 
to  give  a  fancy  ball,  which  not  only  brought  her  friends  together 
for  the  enjoyment  of  rare  sport,  but  also  served  to  replenish  her 
purse — for  the  tickets  of  admission  were  five  dollars  for  a  gentleman 
and  lady. 

The  rules  required  that  all  should  meet  and  part  as  strangers,  and 
not  recognise  each  other  afterward,  should  they  happen  to  meet,  except 
by  mutual  consent. 

While  together,  the  utmost  freedom  of  social  intercourse  was  to  be 
permitted,  and  all  were  to  consider  themselves  at  liberty  to  chat  and 
flirt  to  their  heart's  content. 

There  were  present  on  this  evening  about  twenty  persons,  among 
whom  were  several  beautiful  ladies  ;    but  the  belle  of  the  room  was 

the  young  and  mysterious  widow,  Mrs.  B n. 

She  had  a  tall  queanly  form,  graceful  carriage,  and  a  most  lovely 
and  expressive  countenance,  black  eyes,  dark  hair,  and  an  arm  like 
Pico's. 

She  was  dressed  in  the  character  of  the  "  Indian  Queen,"  which 
was  at  that  time  the  rage  at  the  Olympic,  and  which  gave  her  an 
excellent  opportunity  to  display  to  the  greatest  advantage  the  peerless 
beauty  of  her  form  ;  her  principal  dress  being  a  species  of  frock  coat, 
which,  for  a  gentleman,  would  have  been  of  good  length.  Her  arms 
were  bare,  and  like  polished  marble.  Her  dress  displayed  an  ivory 
neck,  and  gave  indications  of  a  bust,  which,  when  moved  by  the  deep 
heavings  of  passion,  might  call  forth  sighs  from  the  bosom  of  an 
anchorite. 

She,  together  with  Mrs.  Smith,  who  was  not  in  costume,  came  with 
Mr.  Jones. 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  79 

It  would  be  superfluous  to  describe  the  dress  of  the  others.  Though 
all  were  not  in  costume,  yet  all  were  dressed  in  the  gayest  style,  and 
had  come  to  indulge  in  the  freest  mirth,  and  to  abandon  themselves  U 
the  pleasures  and  excitements  of  the  moment. 

The  first  of  the  evening  passed  off  with  the  greatest  hilarity.  The 
music  was  fine  and  the  dance  went  briskly. 

The  widow  was  the  great  point  of  attraction,  but  her  society  was 
chiefly  monopolized  by  her  attendant,  young  Jones,  who  had  begun  to 
he  separately  in  love  with  her.  Some  heart-burnings  and  jealousies 
arose,  but  soon  they  were  drowned  in  the  waves  of  mirth,  and  the 
dance,  and  music  and  wine. 

The  supper-hour  came,  when  the  party  sat  down  to  a  munificently 
spread  table,  loaded  with  the  choicest  viands,  and  sparkling  with 
wines. 

Young  Jones  was  seated  between  Mrs.  Smith  and  the  widow,  the 
latter  of  whom  absorbed  all  of  his  attention.  They  supped  and  drank 
deep  of  the  wine,  and  after  having  removed  from  table,  retired  by 
themselves,  leaving  others  to  renew  the  dance,  in  which  but  few  now 
participated. 

Young  Jones,  when  alone  with  the  widow,  strove  with  all  his  art 
to  draw  from  her  a  confession  of  her  career,  but  in  vain.  He  could 
learn  from  her  only  that  she  had  been  married,  and  was  now  a  widow. 
He,  however,  confessed  his  love  in  no  moderate  terms,  and  vowed  he 
would  cling  to  her  till  death. 

The  artful  widow  professed  to  reciprocate  a  degree  of  love,  and 
afterward  turned  the  passion  of  her  admirer  to  great  advantage  to 
herself,  in  the  shape  of  costly  and  valuable  presents. 

On  returning  to  the  dance,  young  Jones  took  Mrs.  El  wood  for  a 
partner,  and  became  so  much  interested  in  her  witty  and  intelligent 
conversation,  as  almost  to  forget  the  star  that  had  hitherto  twinkled  in 
the  firmament  of  his  thoughts. 

From  this  agreeable  lady  he  learned  much  of  the  world,  and  was 
made  acquainted  with  the  position  and  character  of  many  of  the  actors 
in  the  scene  before  them. 

"Tell  me,  I  beg  of  you,  who  is  that  lively,  enchanting  girl,  in  the 
character  of  a  Swiss  peasant  V 

M  You  know  it  is  against  the  rules  to  tell  what  we  know  of  each 
other  ;  yet,  as  this  lady  has  desired  an  introduction  to  you, 
and  as  she  does  not  now  profess  to  much  secresy,  I  will  tell  you  who 
she  is. 

M  She  J9  a  native  of  Halifax,  where  her  father  was  a  physician,  ^ut 


80  ASMODEtTS;  OR, 

dying,  and  leaving  his  family  uuable  to  support  themselves  in  the 
style  in  which  they  were  accustomed  to  live.,  the  sons  entering  into 
business,  the  mother  and  an  only  daughter  came  to  this  city,  where 
the  latter  teaching  at  first  in  a  school  at  Bloomingdale,  at  length  set 
up  for  herself.  Soon  after  her  mother  dying,  and  she  herself  marrying 
a  Southern  gentleman,  went  to  the  South  to  reside. 

For  two  summers  he  left  her  alone,  and  came  to  New  York,  to 
amuse  himself  without  her. 

"  Suspecting  all  was  not  right,  she  resolved  to  accompany  -him  this 
season  ;  and  they  came  on  together  in  May,  and  put  up  at  the  Astor 
House.  Here  she  soon  discovered  that  her  husband  was  a  gambler, 
and  that  other  objects  drew  off  his  attention  from  her,  leaving  her  at 
times  several  days  together  without  coming  near  her.  Being  thus 
alone,  she  called  on  a  former  female  friend,  who  is  also  a  good  friend 
of  mine.  She  was  introduced  to  me.  I  found  her  a  woman  of  spirit, 
and  sense  ;  and  knowing  that  she  had  herself  alone  to  depend  on,  de- 
termined on  an  independent  course  of  action.  She  still  remains  at  the 
Astor  House,  where  her  husband  occasionally  visits  her,  and  pays  her 
board  ;   but,  as  to  her  conduct,  he  knows  nothing  of  that." 

"  Who  is  that  gentleman  with  her  ?" 

"  He  is  the  Secretary  of  the  French  Legation,  and  is  a  great 
admirer  of  this  deserted  woman,  who  possesses  much  wit  and 
intelligence.'* 

It  was  near  morning  before  the  party  broke  up,  when  young  Jones 
accompanied  his  two  partners  home,  and  retired  to  rest — but  not  to  sleep, 
for  he  lay  in  a  waking  and  bewildered  dream  of  the  new  and  exciting 
scenes  he  had  witnessed  and  participated  in. 

Soon  Mrs.  Smith  became  quite  jealous  of  the  widow,  and  a  quarrel 
ensued,  which  ended  by  an  accusation  against  her  by  the  widow,  who 
alledged  that  the  former  had  stolen  a  sum  of  money  from  her  trunk. 

Officers  were  sent  for,  and  a  search  made  throughout  the  whole 
house,  and  to  which  all  the  boarders  were  obliged  to  submit. 

During  this  pell-mell,  it  leaked  out,  through  the  tongue  of  the 
widow,  that  Parrot  was  a  gambler,  and  his  pretended  wife  no  wife  at 
all.  Strange  hints  were  also  thrown  out  regarding  Mrs.  Elwood, 
who,  as  a  frequent  visitor,  was  known  to  all  the  boarders. 

The  consequence  was,  several  of  the  more  respectable  boarders 
packed  up  their  things  to  depart,  when  the  Parrots  and  the  widow 
received  their  walking-ticket. 

The  widow  and  young  Jones,  on  this  afFray,  took  a  tour  to  Boston, 
while  Mrs.   Smith  soou  afterward  filled  her  house  with  a  new' set  of 


THE  INIGIU1T1ES  OF  NEW  YORK.  81 

boarders,  and  all  things  went  on  as  smooth  and  as  jolly  as  though 
nothing  of  an  unpleasant  nature  had  ever  occurred. 

Young  Jones  has  since  got  married,  but  not  to  the  widow,  who  is 
now  boarding  at  a  very  respectable  boarding-house  not  far  from 
Union  Square,  and  who,  if  she  sees  this,  will  recognize  some  scenes 
in  which  she  has  borne  a  part,  but  who  has  sense  enough  to  keep  to 
her  own  counsel. 
6 


CHAPTER     XIV 


A  WORD  ABOUT  GAMBLERS. 


There  are  in  this  city  some  half  a  score  or  more  of  tip-top  gambling 
concerns,  furnished  in  the  most  elegant  style,  and  which  offer  to  their 
guests  most  magnificent  suppers. 

There  has  been  recently  opened  an  establishment  to  which  but  few 
can  gain  admittance.  It  is  furnished  in  the  most  elegant  style,  sur- 
passing any  establishment  of  the  kind  ever  known  in  this  country. 
All  its  furniture  was  imported  from  Paris,  for  its  mirrors  and  rich 
paintings  dazzle  the  sight,  and  the  foot  rests  upon  the  softest  carpets  of 
Turkey.     But  of  this  we  say  no  more  at  present. 

Besides  this  there  are  more  than  a  hundred  shops  of  a  lower  grade, 
where  the  business  is  carried  on  upon  a  gradually  reduced  scale, 
until  you  reach  the  Five  Points,  where  in  some  damp  cellar  or  rotten 
garret  you  behold  a  group  of  ebony-faces  grinning  around  a  pine 
table,  and  lighted  by  a  tallow  candle  stuck  in  a  glass  bottle. 

But  it  is  the  medium  or  better  grade  of  gamblers  that  do  the 
most  mischief,  and  decoy  the  greatest  number  of  victims  into  their 
snares. 

To  recruit  the  victims  of  their  diabolical  trade,  the  gamblers  of  this 
city  have  a  regular  system  of  police  established  upon  all  new-comers 
to  the  city,  whose  business  it  is  to  watch  the  arrivals  at  the  hotels  and 
ascertain  who  among  them  are  likely  subjects  to  be  operated  upon. 
The  spies  employed  in  this  business  are  often  men  of  considerable  ad- 
dress, and  make  a  flashy  genteel  appearance,  very  impressive  and 
taking  with  greenhorns.  The  principal  means  of  leading  strangers 
into  the  trap  are  an  introduction  to  the  innumerable  houses  of  ill-fame, 
the  inmates  of  all  of  which  are  connected  with  one  or  the  other  of  the 
gambling-houses. 

The  decoy  knows  how  to  make  himself  agreeable  to  the  stranger — 
points  out  the  various  curiosities  of  the  city,  supplies  him  with  in- 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  83 

formation  respecting  the  various  localities — tells  him  where  the  Post 
Office,  the  Exchange,  the  Custom  House,  &c,  &c,  can  be  found 
— and  makes  himself  useful  in  a  variety  of  ways.  At  evening  they 
adjourn  to  the  bar — fortify  themselves  with  a  julep— and  by 
the  tirr.e  it  is  scientifically  imbibed,  Mr.  Greenhorn  is  ripe  for  any- 
tiling. 

A  walk  is  proposed  ;  and  in  the  course  of  a  lounge  in  the  Battery 
or  a  saunter  up  Broadway  the  city  gentleman  meets  a  female  acquaint- 
ance, splendidly  dressed  and  uncommonly  sociable  and  condescend- 
ing. Mr.  Greenhorn  is  at  once  introduced,  and  the  lady  politely 
invites  both  gentlemen  to  call  round  in  the  course  of  the  evening  and 
see  her.  The  countryman  is  delighted  with  such  an  unusual  exhibi- 
tion of  hospitality,  and  begins  to  think  New  York  is  a  leetle  the  cutest 
place  anywhere  this  side  of  sundown. 

Once  fairly  in  the  harlot's  den,  and  his  fate  is  sealed.  Bewildered 
with  the  strangeness  of  all  he  sees  and  hears,  overcome  by  flattery 
and  attentions,  he  does  not  refuse  a  glass  of  champagne,  which 
is  drugged  with  a  small  quantity  of  morphine,  just  enough  to  inspire 
self-confidence  and  audacity;  and  the  spy  finds  no  difficulty  in 
leading  a  willing  victim  to  the  gambling-house,  where  he  is  scien- 
tifically plucked,  and  left  to  make  his  way  to  his  hotel,  a  ruined, 
miserable  man. 

Going  still  another  step  downward  in  our  researches,  we  come  upon 
the  penny  poker  dens  of  the  thieves  and  negroes  of  the  Five  Points  and 
other  similar  localities.  These  are  indescribably  filthy  and  abomin- 
able holes,  into  which  a  man  with  healthy  lungs  might  penetrate  with 
about  as  much  safety  as  he  would  go  down  a  well  with  an  air-damp  at 
the  bottom. 

Here  the  various  grades  of  small  thieves  and  pickpockets  may  be 
seen,  huddled  together  over  a  dark  table,  shuttling  a  pack  of  greasy 
and  worn-out  cards,  drinking  villainous  brandy  and  fire-new  whiskey 
— swearing,  quarrelling,  fighting,  and  making  the  reeking  air  thick 
with  blasphemy.  In  these  dens  men  and  women  are  indiscriminately 
mingled — and  such  men !  but  more  especially,  such  women  ! 

The  enemy  of  mankind  could  not  possibly  desire  more  fitting  and 
accomplished  instruments  to  perform  all  his  dirtiest  jobs  upon  earth. 
Here  the  striking  characteristics  of  gambling-houses,  groggery  and 
brothel  are  brought  in  the  strongest  relief.  Whoever  glances  at  one 
of  these  places,  has  indelibly  stamped  upon  his  brain  a  picture  of  hu- 
man degradation  which  the  most  vivid  imagination  would  attempt  in 
vain  to  conceive. 
8* 


84  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

In  going  about  the  city,  in  preparing  to  discharge  a  task  such  as 
we  have  undertaken,  and  exploring  the  m)'steries  of  these  veritable 
internal  regions,  one  no  longer  wonders  at  the  amount  and  frequency 
of  crime.  He  only  is  astonished  that  it  is  not  an  hundred  times  as 
great. 

We  have  hinted  that  the  gambling-heuses  of  all  grades  were  well- 
known  to  the  police*  and  we  now  repeat  that  there  is  not  an  officer  or 
policeman  in  the  city  who  doesn't  know  one  or  more  of  these  places, 
and  has  not  in  his  possession  positive  evidence  of  their  true  character. 
"  Well  then,  why  are  they  not  suppressed  and  their  keepers  punished 
aqcording  to  law  ?" 

If  we  could  answer  that  question  so  that  the  people  could  see  it 
exactly  as  it  is,  we  could  revolutionize  society  and  reform  the  world. 
We  may  say,  in  general  terms,  that  all  these  establishments  contain 
or  control  votes — the  whole  end,  aim  and  means  of  office-holders  and 
politicians.  There  is,  doubtless,  an  immense  amount  of  private 
bribery  of  officers  by  the  keepers  of  these  and  other  unlawful  estab- 
lishments.    But  the  great  thing  is  votes. 

So  long  as  the  party  in  power  can  maintain  the  ascendency  by 
winking  at  a  hundred  and  fifty  notorious  gambling-houses,  keeping 
dark  about  fifteen  hundred  public  brothels,  and  licensing  two  thousand 
superfluous  groggeries,  so  long  we  shall  look  in  vain  for  any  thorough, 
radical  and  all-embracing  system  of  municipal  reform,  commended  for 
the  benefit  of  the  people  and  carried  out  in  complete  good  faith  and 
honor. 

But  we  repeat,  the  gambling-shops  will  never  be  suppressed  while 
the  authorities  themselves  are  involved  in  this  disgraceful  calling. 
Thre  is  scarcely  a  Common  Council  in  which  there  is  not  a  professed 
gambler  in  one  or  both  boards.  One  of  the  aldermen  from  one  of  the 
first  five  wards  was  with  his  paramour  notoriously  known  as  the 
keeper  of  a  famous  infamous  house.  ■ 

While  such  a  state  of  things  continue,  it  is  in  vain  to  hope  for  any 
attempt  at  vigilance  or  faithfulness  in  the  execution  of  the  laws. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  gamblers  confine  their  operations  not  to 
cards  or  dice,  but  that  politics  is  one  of  the  means  of  gambling.  In- 
deed it  has  been  said  that  the  gamblers  control  our  elections,  and  that 
no  persons  are  so  well  informed  of  the  state  of  parties  and  of  the  means 
predicting  or  rather  of  predetermining  future  elections. 

The  gamblers  have  large  bets  at  stake  on  all  important  elections, 
particularly  the  Presidential  election,  and  to  facilitate  their  operations 
have  a  complete  and  efficient  organization  extending  to  every  State, 


THE  INIQUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  85 

by  which  they  are  not  only  able  to  exercise  a  great  influence  on  the 
votes  of  the  people,  but  also  to  obtain  exclusive  information  of  the 
political  partialities  of  the  people,  and  of  the  probable,  if  not  certain 
result  of  the  elections  in  every  part  of  the  country. 

To  this  scheme  of  political  gambling  many  a  victim  has  fallen.  It 
is  not  by  bets  among  themselves  that  the  gamblers  carry  on  this  game, 
it  is  by  drawing  the  ardent  and  inexperienced  young  politicians  into 
their  snares  that  they  flourish. 

Their  instruments  by  which  they  operate  are  conspicuous  betting 
politicians,  who  are  furnished  with  means  by  gamblers  to  bring  the 
young  and  inconsiderate  into  their  traps. 

What  effect  the  new  law  will  have  on  this  system  of  political  gam- 
bling remains  to  be  seen.  We  trust  it  will  be  beneficial,  but  the 
facility  with  which  it  may  be  evaded,  or  the  impunity  with  which  it 
may  in  most  cases  probably  be  violated,  will  perhaps  render  it  partially 
ineffectual. 


BUSINESS    NOTICE, 


OUR  INVITATION  TO  STRANGERS  VISITING  THE  CITY. 

We  cordially  invite  our  friends,  who  may  by  chance  visit  the  city 
either  on  business  or  pleasure,  to  call  at  our  Store,  which  will  be  open 
for  their  reception ;  and  any  information  they  may  require,  will  be 
cheerfully  given. 

The  proprietors  being  extensively  acquainted  in  the  business  com- 
munity,  may  be  of  essential  service  to  merchants  and  others,  who 
may  visit  the  city  for  the  purpose  of  buying  goods  or  transacting  other 
business  for  the  first  time. 

Book  dealers,  who  may  desire  to  replenish  their  stock — but  do  not 
wish  to  incur  the  expense  of  a  journey  to  the  city — can,  by  sending  a 
Catalogue  of  the  works  wanted,  have  them  purchased  and  shipped — 
for  which  a  small  commission  only  will  be  charged. 

The  long  experience  we  have  had  in  the  book  trade,  will  enable  us 
to  make  purchases,  for  cash  or  approved  paper,  on  the  most  favorable 
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American  Cottage  Library,  or  Useful  Facts,  Figures  and  Hints 
for  Everybody.  Containing  a  General  View  of  the  World  ;  Statis- 
tics of  the  United  States :  Statistics  of  States  and  Cities ;  Political 
Statistics ;  Government  Officers  of  the  United  States  ;  Political  Eco- 
nomy ;  Taxation;  Moral  and  Religious  Department ;  Education; 
Agriculture  ;  Statistics  of  the  Great  West ;  Miscellany — Items,  &c. 
Edited  by  W.  A.  Franklin.  -  -  -    '         -  25- 

Corinne,  or  Italy.  By  Madame  de  Stael — Houlstein.  Translated 
for  the  Library  of  Standard  Novels.  The  poetical  passage  by  L. 
E.  L.     American  Edition,  with  numerous  corrections.         -         5.0 

Christopher  Tadpole.  By  Albert  Smith.  With  Engravings.  In 
parts.  .......         38 

Camp  and  Quarter  Deck.     In  part.     Each        -  -  25 

Dr.  Hollick's  New  Treatise  on  the  Disease  of  Woman,  1,00 

Ellen  Munroe.     Sequel  to  Life  in  London.     Uniform  in  beauty  and 

embellishment,         ......       l}00 

Eva,  or  the  Isles  of  Life  and  Death.  By  Edward  Maturin,  Esq.  25 
Esther  de  Medina,  or  Crimes  of  London.     By  G.  W.  Reynolds. 

Beautifully  Illustrated,  -  -  -  -  -     1,00 

Faust,  a  Romance.     By  the  author  of  the  "Mysteries  of  London." 

Illustrated.     This  is  the  book  for  which  the  thousands  who  read  the 

first  numbers,  have   been  so  anxiously  awaiting  the  completion. 

There  is  no  writer  of  romance  equal  to  Reynolds.     New  and  greatly 

improved  edition,  with  additional  London  engravings.  -       50 

George  Lovell.     By  James  Sheridan  Knowles,         -  -         25 

History  of  St.  Giles  and  St.  James.     By  Jerrold,         -  38 

Isabel  Graham,  or  Charity's  Reward.     A  Tale  of  New  York.     By 

William  Henry  Herbert.         -  -  -  -  -      2a 


Q9  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

James  the  Second,  or  the  Revolution  of  1688.  An  Historical  Ro- 
mance.    By  W.  H.  Ainsworth,  Esq.  -  -  -         25 

Life  in  London.    By  G.  W.  Reynolds.    Gorgeously  illustrated,  1,00 

Loves  of  Paris.  From  the  French.  Accompanied  by  all  the  Paris 
Engravings,  ......  50 

Launcelot  Widge.     By  Charles  Hooten,  Esq.         -  -        25 

Love's  Desperation,  or  the  President's  Only  Daughter,  and  other 
Tales.     By  Ned  Buntline,         -  -  -  .  .     13 

Martin  the  Foundling.     Splendidly  Illustrated,         -        -      1,00 

Manita  of  the  Pictured  Rocks,  or  the  Copper  Speculator.  A 
Tale  of  Lake  Superior.     By  Osgood  Bradbury,  Esq.  -  25 

Muscoma,  or  Faith  Campbell.     A  Romance  of  the  Revolution,    25 

May  Martin,  or  the  Money  Diggers.  A  Green  Mountain  Tale. 
By  B.  D.  Thompson,  author  of"  Locke  Amsden."         -         -      25 

Mysteries  of  Old  London,  or  the  Days  of  Hogarth.  By  G.  W. 
Reynolds,  author  of  "  Robert  Macaire,"  "  Life  in  London,"  &c.  &c. 
Embellished  with  numerous  Engravings,  from  the  famous  Picture 
of  Hogarth,  -  -  -"        r'-  -         -  50 

Mary  Stewart,  Queen  of  Scotts.  An  Historical  Tale.  By  Alex- 
andre Dumas,  -  -  -  -  -  .25 

Neal's  Charcoal  Sketches.     Second  Series,        -  -  50 

Now  and  Then.     Through  a   Glass,  Darkly.     By  Samuel 

Warren,  F.R.S.,  author  of  "  Ten  Thousand  A  Year."  -         50 

Rose  Somerville,  or  a  Wife's  Devotion.  By  the  author  of  "  First 
False  Step."  A  work  of  thrilling  interest,  and  scenes  of  domestic 
love  and  devotion  worthy  the  pen  of  a  Howitt  or  a  Marsh,      -       25 

Robert  Macaire  in  England.  By  G.  W.  Reynolds,  author  of 
"  Life  in  London,"  &c.     Illustrated,  -  -  50 

Rodolpho,  or  the  Freebooters  of  Formentera.  A  Tale  of  the  Medi- 
terranean, -  -  -  -  25 

Sir  Henry  Morgan,  the  Buccaneer.  By  the  author  of  "Jack 
Ashore,"  "  Old  Commodore."  ....       25 

The  First  False  Step.  By  the  author  of  f  Rose  Somerville."  A 
new  and  beautiful  edition,  with  profuse  embellishments,         -       25 

The  Bottle,  or  the  First  Step  of  Crime.    Graphically  Illustrated,  25 

The  Cruise  of  the  Midge.  By  the  author  of "  Tom  Cringle's 
Log."  -  -  -  -  .  -  -      50 

Tom  Cringle's  Log.     By  the  same  author,        -  -     50 

The  Old  Judge,  or  Life  a  Calumny.  By  the  author  of  "Sam 
Slick."  .......        25 

Twenty  Years  After,  or  the  Further  Feats  and  Fortunes  of  a 
Gascon  Adventurer:  being  a  Sequel  to  the  "Three  Guardsmen*" 
By  Alexandre  Dumas,  -  -  -  -  -50 

The  Last  of  the  Faries.  A  Christmas  Tale.  By  G.  P.  R. 
James,  Esq.  ......  13 


90  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

The  Bride  of  the  Northern  Wilds.  A  Tale  of  1743.  By 
Newton  M.  Curtis,  -  -  -  -  -  26 

The  Bandit's  Bride,  or  the  Maid  of  Saxony.  A  Romance.  By  L. 
S.  Stanhope,  -  -  -  2ft 

The  Mysteries  and  Miseries  of  New  York.  A  Story  of  Real 
Life.     By  Ned  Buntline.     Complete  in  five  parts,   each         -       2ft 

The  Lives  of  Gen.  Taylor  and  Gen.  Scott,  (complete  in  one 
volume;)  to  which  is  appended,  An  Outline  History  of  Mexico,  and 
a  Brief  History  of  the  Mexican  War.  Illustrated  by  a  fine  Map  of 
Mexico,  and  12  other  Spirited  Engravings.  By  Arthur  Sumpter, 
U.  S.  A.  -  -  -  -       12 

The  Home  of  Shakspeare,  Illustrated  and  Described,  by  F.  W. 
Fauholt,  F.  S.  A.,  author  of  "  Costume  of  England."  Thirty. three 
Engravings,  ......  25 

Teeth,  their  Structure,  Disease  and  Treatment.  By  John  Burdel), 
Dentist.     Illustrated  by  numerous  engravings.     72  pages,       -     13 

The  Three  Guardsmen.     By  Alexandre  Dumas,  -  50 

Wallace,  The  Hero  of  Scotland.  By  Gabriel  Alexander.  With 
38  beautiful  wood  engravings,  -  -  -  -         50 

The  Wandering  Jew.  By  Eugene  Sue.  Translated  from  the 
French,  by  Henry  Wm.  Herbert.     Two  vols.  -  -      50 

The  Fair  Isabel ;  or  the  Fanatics  of  the  Cevennes.  A  Tale  of  the 
Huguenot  War.  By  Eugene  Sue.  Translated  from  the  French 
by  Henry  Wm.  Herbert.  With  Original  Illustrations  by  the 
Translator,  ......  50 

Latreaumont ;  or  the  Court  Conspiritor.  An  Historical  Romance. 
By  Eugene  Sue.  The  translation  revised  and  corrected  by  Thos. 
Williams,         -  -  -  -  -  -  -     25 

The  Temptation;  or  the  Watch-Tower  of  Koat-Ven.  A  Roman- 
tic Tale.     By  Eugene  Sue,         -  -  -  .     25 

Rupert  Sinclair ;  or  the  Faithless  Wife.  By  the  author  of  "  Ten 
Thousand  A  Year."     A  Thrilling  Romance,         .  -  2ft 

Old  Cro'  Nest ;  or  the  Outlaws  of  the  Hudson.  A  Romance  of 
American  Forest  Life  in  the  Olden  Time.     By  Robt.  Greeley,    38 

The  Richmond  Tragedy.  Trial  of  Myers  and  others,  for  the 
Murder  of  Dubley  Marvin  Hoyt.  With  the  Letters,  &c.  in  full. 
Drawn  up  by  the  Editor  of  the  Richmond  Southern  Standard.  A 
few  copies  of  this  work  remain  unsold.         -  .  -         13 

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THE  INIClUiTIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  91 

BEAUTIFUL  GIFT  BOOKS  FOR  ALL  SEASONS, 

ADAPTED  TO  VARIOUS  OCCASIONS. 

We  have  the  pleasure  of  announcing  to  our  patrons  that  we  have 
made  such  arrangements  as  will  enable  us  to  send  to  them  the  most 
elegant  collection  of  Gift  Books,  appropriate  for  all  seasons  and  occa- 
sions, ever  offered  in  the  United  States. 

The  following  works  are  all  of  a  delicate  pocket  size,  finely  printed 
on  the  best  paper,  and  bound  in  a  very  rich  fancy  cloths  of  various 
stamps,  and  ornamented,  edged  and  lettered  with  gold  ;  and  otherwise 
superbly  embellished.  In  size,  they  vary  from  126  to  200  pages  ;  and 
we  can  afford  to  mail  them  at  the  uniform  price  of 

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which  makes  them  the  cheapest  books  of  the  kind  ever  offered  to  the 
public.  No  person,  we  venture  to  say,  would  expect  to  get  one  of 
these  books  for  less  than  double  this  sum.  It  is  the  good  fortune  of 
our  patrons  that  we  are  enabled  to  offer  them  so  cheap. 

This  collection  of  Gift  Books  consist  of  the  following  works  : 

THE  POETRY  OF  LOVE  :  A  Collection  of  several  hundred 
of  the  most  beautiful  passages  of  sentimental  love  poetry,  from  the 
works  of  the  greatest  poets  of  present  and  past  times.  It  is  difficult 
to  imagine  a  more  delicious  volume. 

THE  ODD-FELLOW'S  TOKEN  :  Devoted  to  "Friendship, 
Love  and  Truth."  Edited  by  Kate  Barclay.  Illuminated  title  page. 
A  very  charming  collection  of  appropriate  poetry. 

THE  BRIDAL  KEEPSAKE  :  A  Marriage  Gift,  for  bride  or 
bridegroom ;  or  those  who  intend  to  enter  this  happy  state.  The 
world  would  be  much  better  if  this  little  book  were  read  universally 
bv  all  who  marry,  before  and  after.  It  has  a  fine  steel  plate  engraving 
of  The  Bride. 

THE  GOLDEN  GIFT;  A  Token  for  all  Seasons.  This  highly 
embellished  little  pocket  volume  is  full  of  gems  of  the  most  beautiful 
poetry,  such  as  every  lady  and  gentleman  of  taste  would  like  to  have 
at  hand  in  every  leisure  hour. 

FABLES  OF  FLORA  :  Embellished  with  a  Colored  Boquet 
of  Flowers.  A  charming  book  for  all  who  love  the  "  Poetry  of 
Karth." 

THOUGIfTS  AMONG  THE  FLOWERS;  or,  Pious  and  Moral 
Reflections  upon  the  Characteristics  of  many  of  those  Beautiful  Crea- 
tions. This  work  is  a  rich  treasure  to  such  as  indulge  in  religious 
contemplations  on  the  works  of  Nature. 

THE  HARE  BELL;  A  Token  of  Friendship— Edited  by 
C.  W.  Everest.  This  is  an  excellent  collection  of  Poetry  and 
;  worthy  of  a  moral  or  religious  character. 

GEMS  OF  SACRED  POETRY.  This  work  is  well  described 
by  its  title.     Each  extract  is  prefaced  by  a  brief  sketch  of  its  author. 

THE  LADIES'  VASE  OF  WILD  FLOWERS;  A  collection 
of  gems  from  the  best  authors.     Colored  frontispiece. 


92  ASMODEUS;  OR, 

THE  POETICAL  WRITINGS  OF  THE  LATE  WILLIS 
GAYLORD  CLARKE,  with  a  biography.  These  are  the  exquisite 
poems  of  one  of  the  most  gifted  of  American  poets. 

PUBLIC  AND  SOCIAL  DUTIES  OF  LIFE;  By  W. 
and  R.  Chambers,  Editors  of  Chambers'  Miscellany,  &c. 

PRIVATE  DUTIES  OF  LIFE  ;     By  the  same  author. 

CYPRESS  WREATH ;  or,  Mourner's  Friend.  A  selection 
of  prose  and  poetry,  adapted  to  the  consolation  of  the  afflicted. 

THE  WEEPING  WILLOW.  A  beautiful  work,  of  a  similar 
design,  by  Mrs.  L.  H.  Sigourney. 

THE  POCKET  LETTER  WRITER  ;  Embracing  practical 
illustrations  of  Epistolary  Correspondence,  suited  to  various  situations 
of  life,  and  especially  adapted  to  the  momentous  affairs  of  Love, 
Courtship  and  Marriage. 

HALLOWEEN  ;  A  Romaunt,  with  Lays,  Meditative  and  Devo- 
tional.    Fine  steel  plate  frontispiece. 

THE  LADIES'  DIADEM-,  or,  The  Starry  Oracles.  In  which 
each  day  in  the  year  is  designated  by  a  star  and  a  poetical  prophecy, 
or  description.  Emblazoned  and  colored  frontispiece — curious  and 
beautiful. 

THE  FAIRY'S  SEARCH,  and  other  Poems.  By  Mrs.  Emeline 
M.  Smith.     Illustrated  with  seven  beautiful  engravings  on  tinted  paper. 

THE  LOVER'S  GIFT,  and  Friendship's  Token.  Edited  by 
Lewis  Gaylord  Clark. 

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"To  the  pure  all  things  are  pure." 

WOMAN  AND  HER  DISEASES  FROM  THE  CRADLE  TO  THE  GRAVE, 

Adapted  exclusively  to  her  Instruction  in  the  Natural  Laws  of  her 
System,  in  the  Diseases  of  her  Critical  Periods.  By  Edward  H. 
Dixon,  M.  D.     Pp.  325.     Price  $1  25. 

OPINIONS  OF  THE  PRESS. 

The  Boston  Chronotype,  in  its  leading  article  of  the  19th  December, 
pronounces  it  "of  unspeakable  necessity  and  written  with  admirable 
delicacy  and  plainness." 

"  The  careful  and  prudent  mother  may  consult  this  work  with  great 
advantage  to  herself  and  her  offspring." — N.  Y.  Albion. 

"  Dr.  Dixon  has  lent  a  deep  interest  to  his  work,  and  is  doing  good 
service  by  its  publication." — Boston  Medical4land  Surgical  Journal. 

"Dr.  Dixon  has  treated  his  subject  in  a  sincere,  earnest  and 
thorough  manner ;  we  think  it  will  have  a  wide  circulation." — Tribune. 

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I 

THE  INiaUITIES  OF  NEW  YORK.  93 

SEND    IN    YOUR    ORDERS!! 


THAT   GREAT 

AMERICAN  ROMAHCJ 

OP 

Jfttgatevs  ana  ©riror, 

ENTITLED 

WHILIFM31ID)  BflONTPIBIESSOIBj 

OR, 

THE  SECRET  ORDER  OF  THE  SEVEN! 

By  the  Author  of  "Abel  Parsons,*'  "Florancc  de  Lacy,"  Etc.  Etc. 

IS   NOW    READY. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  deeply  interesting  tales  ever  issued  from  the 
American  Press.  Every  line  exhibits  a  master  hand.  The  charac- 
ters comprise  men  of  high  and  low  degree — men  rolling  in  unearned 
wealth,  and  men  suffering  in  unmerited  poverty.  The  scenes,  re- 
vealing 

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among  the  "  Upper  Ten,"  and  among  the  Lower  Hundreds,  are  por- 
trayed with  the  Power  of  a  Sue,  and  the  fidelity  of  a  Scott.     Under 
the  mastership  of  the  powerful  mind  of  Montressor,  The  Seven  pene- 
trate into  every  condition  of  society — into  the  saloons  of  the 

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and  the  damning  deeds  of  darkness  are  brought  to  the  light,  and  the 
perpetrators,  high  or  low,  brought  before  the  just  tribunal  of  The 
Seven,  and  made  to  suffer  merited  punishment.  The  morale  of  the 
work  is  of  the  highest  order,  and  it  contains  not  a  line,  in  all  its  life- 
like delineations  of  real  life  in  the  great  City  of  New  York,  that  can 
tinge  the  cheek  of  beautiful  woman  with  the  blush  of  modesty.  It  is 
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ONE  HUNDRED  ENGRAVINGS  ON  WOOD, 
of  rare  talent  and  beauty ;    and   it  is   by   far  the  most  Profusely 
Illustrated  American  Romance  ever  published. 

OO*  Complete  in  Four  Parts.  Price  25  cents  each.  Orders  from 
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I 

94  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

THE  MOST  ASTOUNDING  WORK  OF  THE  AGE. 


JUST  PUBLISHED, 
The  21th  Edition  of  the  Great   Work  entitled 

A   TRUE   KEY    TO    ODD-FELLOWSHIP. 

NEARLY  HALF  A  MILLION 

Of  this  astounding  work   has  been  disposed  of,  which  is  unparalelled 
in  any  other  work  ever  published  in  the  world. 

It  contains  all  the  Signs,   Tokens,  Grips,  Pass   Words  and 

Obligations,  and  an  Explanation  of  the  Five 

Degrees  as  now  practised  under 

the  late  Revised   Work 

of  the  Order. 

It  is  illustrated  with  appropriate  Original  Designs,  representing 

different  Scenes  in  the  Initiation.     This  work  has  gone  through 

THIS-TIT-SEVEN  X.A&CHB  EDITIONS. 
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THE   MYSTERIES   OF   MARRIAGE, 

IN  ITS  SOCIAL,  MORAL,  AND  PHYSICAL  RELATIONS. 

Addressed  to  the  Conscientious  of  both  Sexes.  By  Michael  Ryan, 
Member  of  the  Royal  College  of  Physicians  and  Surgeons,  Physician 
to  the  Metropolitan  Free  Hospital,  &c.     With  a  fine  Illustration. 

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CHILDBIRTH, 

Its  Pains  Greatly  Lessened,  its  Perils  Entirely  Obviated — Being  an 
Account  of  an  Experiment  Recently  made  in  London,  with  Allusions 
to  several  Cases  in  this  Country,  and  a  great  exposition  of  their  Philo- 
sophy— showing  that  the  Pains  of  Childbirth  may  be  greatly  mitigated 
if  not  entirely  prevented.  By  the  author  of  "  Intellectual  and  Moral 
Qualities  Transmissible."     Price  38  cents.     64  pages.     Sold  by 

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INFANT   TREATMENT, 

With  Directions  to  Mothers,  for  Self-Management  before,  during, 
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an  entirely  new  fount  of  type,  and  put  on  superior  paper — and  contains 
3J38  large  pages. 

Eugene  Scribe  is  probably  the  most  eminent  French  dramatic 
author  of  the  present  age.  His  writings  have  hitherto  attained  an 
eminence  in  the  estimation  of  his  countrymen  of  the  most  enviable 
character,  and  we  are  glad  to  see  that  he  has  turned  his  attention  to 
a  different  style  of  composition.  This  novel,  which  treats  of  the 
history  of  Philip  the  Third,  is  of  the  most  exciting  character,  embracing 
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history  of  Spain.      All  orders  must  be  addressed  to 

C.  G.  GRAHAM  &  CO.,  38  Ann-st.  N.  Y. 


THE  ART  OF  GOOD  BEHAVIOR;  AND  LETTER  WRITER, 

ON  LOVE,  COURTSHIP,  AND  MARRIAGE  : 

A  Complete  Guide  for  Ladies  and  Gentlemen  ;  particularly  those 
who  have  not  enjoyed  the  advantages  of  Fashionable  Life  ;  containing 
directions  for  giving  and  attending  Parties,  Balls,  Weddings,  Dinners, 
and  including  the  necessary  preparations  and  arrangements  for  the 
marriage  ceremony.     Price  12>£  cents. 

Address,  post-paid,  to  C.  G.  GRAHAM  &  CO.,  38  Ann-st.,  N.  Y. 


THE  AMERICAN  LETTER  WRITER, 

Being  practical  Directions  to  be  observed  in  Letter  Writing,  with 
numerous  Models  of  Letters  in  affairs  of  Business,  Friendship,  Love 
Private  Interest,  &c.     Also, 

A  BRIEF  ABSTRACT  OF  THE  POST  OFFICE  LAW, 

BY  A  MEMBER  OF  THE  NEW  YORK  BAR. 

Price  twelve-and-a-half  cents. 
All  orders  must  be  addressed  to         C.  G.  GRAHAM  &  CO.. 

38  Ann-street,  N.  Y. 

THE  AMERICAN  VOCALIST: 

A  Choice  Collection  of  the  most  Popular  and  admired 

Sentimental,  Patriotic,  Comic,  Irish,  Negro, 

and  numeroes  other  Songs. 

Thi9  work  contains  not  only  the  New  Songs  of  the   fashionable 

Operas,  but  the  Old   Ballads   that   delighted    our   ancestors.     T.iis 

collection  is  one  of  the  best  and  cheapest  ever  made  in  this  country. 

On   receipt  of  Half  a  Dollar,  free  of  postage,  this   book  will   be 
securelv  packed,  and  sent  bv  mail  lo  anv  part  of  the  United  States,  by 
C.  G.  GRAHAM  cV  CO.,  39  Ann-street,  N.  Y. 


96  ASMODEUS  ;  OR, 

C.  G.  GRAHAM  &  CO., 

NO.    38    ANN-STREET,    NEW    YORK, 

HAVE  JUST  ISSUED  A  UNIFORM  EDITION  OP 

Printed  on  fine  white  paper,  clear  and  legible  type,  and  each  form- 
ing one  large  octavo  volume,  complete  in  itself,  neatly  bound  in  a  strong 
paper  cover,  and  can  be  sent  by  mail  to  any  part  of  the  United  States 
lor  &%  cents  postage. 

THE  FOLLOWING  COMPRISES  THE  LIST  : 

Lena  Cameron  ;  or  The  Four  Sisters. 

The  Belle  of  the  Family. 

Sybil  Lennard,  A  Record  of  Woman's  Life. 

The  Duke  and  the  Cousin. 

The  Little  Wife,  A  Record  of  Matrimonial  Life. 

The  Maneuvering  Mother. 

The  Baronet's  Daughters. 

The  Young  Prima  Donna. 

Harry  Monk. 

The  Old  Dower  House. 

Hyaeinthe,  or  The  Contrast. 

Alice  Seymour. 
Any  one  or  all  of  the  above  will  be  sent  to  any  place  in  the  United 
States,  by  return  of  mail,  on   remitting  the  amount  for  them  to  the 
publisher  in  a  letter.     Published  by       C.  G.  GRAHAM  &  CO., 

38  Ann-street,  New  York. 


THE  SONG  BOOK  OF  SONG  BOOKS ! 

NOW  READY, 

IN  A  HANDSOME  POCKET  VOLUME 

OF  OVER  FIVE  HUNDRED  PAGES, 
With   a  beautiful  colored  Lithographic  Frontispiece,  and  Numerous 
Engravings,  in  Cloth  Covers,  at  only  FIFTY  CENTS. 


THE  CONDITIONS  OF  HEALTH  AND  LONG  LIFE, 

With  practical   Directions  for  their  Preservation  and  attainment,  by 
Robert  Chambers,  Editor  of  "Chambers'  Cyclopedia,''  &c.     Price 
Twelre  and  a  half  Cents. 
All  orders  must  be  addressed  to   C.  G.  GRAHAM  &  CO., 

38  Ann-street,  N.  Y. 


LOVE    IN   A   COTTAGE. 

By  T.  S.  Arthur,  author  of  "  Insubordinate  ;  or,  the  Shoemaker's 
Daughter,"  "  The  Maiden,"  etc.    One  volume,  octavo.    Price  25  cents. 
For  sale  by  C.  G.  GRAHAM  &  CO.,  39  Ann-street,  N.  Y. 


y«  >f^N 


ih»^ 


PRICE.  FiFTY  CENTS. 


6W 


THE  YOUNG  MOOR , 

OR,  THE  ,    . 

I  FORTUNES  OF  A  FOUNDLING.  I 


H  :; 

if 
I 

- 

1 


T  2 

4" 


THIRD  EDITION. 

BY  EUGENE  SCRIBE. 


PUBLISHED  BY 

C.  G.  GRAHAM  &  CO.,  I 

*     /)  OFFICE  OF  THE  "NATION  kh  PRESS,"  38  ANN  STREET^) 
Ht  NEW  YORK. 


1848. 


H«5^~*- 


COMPLETE  l\  ONE  VOLUME. 


CLOTHING  EMPORIUM 

AND 

mmmm  outfitting  itabuime 

No.  27  CORTLANDT-ST., 

Always  on  hand  the  largest,  cheapest  and  most  fashionable  ass 
merit  of  Clothing  that  can  be   found   in  this    city,  embracing  all   .' 
latest   style   garments    adapted  to  the  season.       With  the  increasi 
popularity  of  the  establishment,  and  the  immense  increase  of  patr 
age  from  all  parts  of  the  United  States  has  stimulated  the  subscril 
to  still  greater  exertion  to  make  the  House  the  principal  mart  of 

In  this  country.       All  purchases    are   made    for    cash,    and  from  i 
IMMENSE  SACRIFICE  which  must   be  made  by  both 

FOREIGN  AND  DOMESTIC  MANUFACTURES 

I  shall  be  enabled    to    offer    Clothing    at  a  great    reduction   from  all 
former  prices.     It  is    unnecessary  to  enumerate  a  long  list  of  prict 
but  would  say  that    gentlemen    can    find    fashionable  "and    well  ma< 
Clothing  at  the  above  Establishment    cheaper    than  any  other  1 1 
in  the  City.  _  Persons  residing  at  a  distance,  by  sending  their  mea 
ures  can  receive  Clothing  on  the  same  terms  as  if  they  were  here 
select  for  themselves,  and  sent    to  any  part  of  the  Country  by  E 
press  or  otherwise. 

THE  LARGEST  AND  BEST  ASSORTMENT 

OF 

FASHIONABLE    CRAVATS,    GLOVES,  SUSPENDERS,   UV 
BRELLAS,  HOSIERY,  SHIRTS    OF    EVERY  DESCRIPTION 

in  fact,  every  article  belonging  to  a  gentleman's  wardrobe  can  be 
found  at  prices  that  will  defy  all  competition.  Strangers  and  other 
arriving  in  the  city  can  find  a  full  or  partial  outfit  by  calling  on 

J.  O.  BOOTH, 

No.  27  CORTLANDT  STREET, 

A  FEW  DOORS  BELOW  THE  WESTERN  HOTEL. 


